


Broken and Shattered

by cdreaiton



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Season/Series 12, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Dean, Bottom Sam, Branding, But is it really Stockholm Syndrome if you already love them?, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom Castiel, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Forced Incest, Hand Jobs, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Multi, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Graphic Violence, Pain, Past Abuse, Past Lucifer/Sam Winchester, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Psychological Torture, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Season 13 spoilers, Season/Series 12 Spoilers, Sexual Abuse, Sibling Incest, Slow Build, Stockholm Syndrome, Top Castiel, Torture, Unrequited Love, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-17 08:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14828957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdreaiton/pseuds/cdreaiton
Summary: Dean and Sam are finally back home after being held in solitary confinement for nearly two months. Castiel killed Billie, saving them, and Dean is angry. But his anger gets replaced with fear when Cas knocks the brothers out and chains them in the dungeon, claiming they need to be punished. What has happened to the angel? And how will Dean and Sam survive his "love" long enough to fix it?





	1. Imprisoned

**Author's Note:**

> READ THE TAGS. They are not a joke. This story is dark, and beyond angsty. There will be torture. There will be rape. There will be an ending, but it won't all be happy. I will give warnings before each chapter, but seriously, if any of that triggers you, leave now.
> 
> This chapter contains torture. You have been warned.
> 
> And on that note... Enjoy!

Cover Art by: [suitsflash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bikeross/pseuds/suitsflash)

 

“Cas, dude, I really don’t think the US government is going to use witches to try and find us. They don’t even know witches exist,” Sam says with a soft smile as he watches the angel draw yet another sigil on the wall by the bunker’s front door.

 

“We cannot know that for sure, Sam. And we must also be wary of reapers trying to… finish what Billie started,” Cas responds quietly, moving slightly to draw another sigil directly on the door.

 

“Well we wouldn’t _have_ to worry about vengeful reapers if you hadn’t interferred and ganked Billie in the first place,” Dean snaps, stabbing into his chinese take-out with a little more force than is necessary.

 

Cas bristles at the comment but doesn’t respond. When he finishes the sigils at the door, he gathers his supplies and heads back down the stairs and out of the map room to start warding all of the other entrances and exits into the Winchester’s home. Once he’s out of ear shot, (or at least out of sight,) Sam turns to his brother.

 

“Dean, lay off. He did what he thought was right. And he saved us and Mom. Give him a break.”

 

“No, Sammy, I’m not going to give him a break! Cosmic consequences. That’s what Billie said would happen if we broke that deal. Do you know what that means? Cause I sure as hell don’t!” With a huff of agitation, Dean pushes the red and white container away from him, his appetite suddenly gone.

 

“We were gone for almost two months, Dean. He had no idea where we were, or how to find us. How to even _start_ trying to find us. We vanished off the face of the planet. He probably thought we were dead. And it’s not like he’s got a list of people he can just call for backup. We’re all he’s got.” Sam retorts, giving Dean a look that clearly says ‘stop being stubborn and forgive the poor guy already.’

 

“He’s got more than just us. What about Mom?” Dean insists, clearly not willing to drop the subject just yet.

 

“He did call her. But she’s 30 years out of her time. All of her contacts are either dead or retired. She must have been just as lost trying to help as Cas was.”

 

“Jody!” Dean tries again.

 

“Considering what the world thinks we did? She’s a sheriff Dean. She can’t go poking around trying to get info about prisoners that may or may not be alive, and might be being held at some facility that doesn’t technically exist. And what if Claire was there and tried to help or come along? You know how hard it is for Cas to see Claire. And for her to see him,” Sam sighs and starts to put the remains of their dinner away, then cuts Dean off before he can try again, “Crowley and Rowena bailed as soon as things went south, and they’d both rather we _stay_ behind bars where we can’t interfere with their own personal agendas. There’s a price on his head in Heaven, so any angel he calls is more likely to kill him outright than be of any help. And the only reason the British Men of Letters got involved is because Mom called them. After they… tried to persuade us to join them the first time, I’m pretty sure Cas would rather smite them than ask them for help. So come on, leave Cas alone. Because you know if things had been reversed, you would have made the same choice.”

 

Dean deflates a bit as Sam finishes running through the sadly short list of people Cas could have possibly called for help. He knows Sam is right. Without the brothers, Cas has no one. And with the threat of Lucifer’s kid still looming over them, the idea of trying to save the world on his own, while still flying under Heaven’s radar, and having no idea what had happened to the only family he has left… it must have seemed like a daunting and impossible task. And then to find them both alive and well, only to be told one of them was going to die? It’s no wonder the angel wouldn’t let that happen and damn the consequences. Running a hand through his already messed hair, Dean admits to himself that Sam is right. He would have made the same choice in Cas’s shoes. _Has_ made the same choice. And considering how well that’s gone for them before… to say he’s worried about something horrific happening to the angel is an understatement.

 

Before Dean can respond, he very suddenly becomes aware of Cas’s presence at his side. He looks up at the angel standing between him and Sam, and starts to make a mental note of reminding Cas once again about personal space, when Cas looks down at him and Dean’s brain comes to a screeching halt. He’s known the angel for getting close to a decade now, and even with as unreadable as he usually is, Dean can tell that something is off. Instead of determination, or fear, or anger, or any other number of emotions Dean would expect to be showing in the cold blue fire of Cas’s eyes… there’s nothing. His eyes are blank and empty, devoid of any feeling or emotion.

 

It’s a look Dean remembers well. _Very well_. It’s the same look that stared down at him impassively not too many years ago as he begged his best friend not to kill him. The same look that still sometimes haunts his nightmares and makes him wake shaking and drenched in a cold sweat. His entire body tenses as Cas fixes him with that vacant stare, and his blood runs cold.

 

He can feel Sam react to his change in demeanor as tension seems to fill the room, and sees his brother shift subtly out of the corner of his eye. Sam may not understand what is going on, but they’ve been hunting together for so long, he reacts to his brother almost subconsciously. Dean knows that if he moves, Sam will follow suit. Taking a small breath, Dean forces himself to relax. They’ve all been through a lot over the last two months, Cas included.

 

“Cas?” He starts, trying to keep his voice level and calm, “Everything okay there, buddy? You seem a little out of it.”

 

Cas looks at him for what seems like an eternity of tense silence before he seems to actually realize Dean has asked him a question.

 

“I’m fine Dean. I finished warding the bunker. No one will disturb us now.” Cas’s deep voice is flat, but rings with a finality that sets off several sets of alarm bells in Dean’s head.

 

“What do you mean no one will…?” Panic starts to seep into Dean’s voice, but Cas cuts him off before he can finish his thought.

 

“It’s time.”

 

Dean barely has enough time to register that Cas is reaching out to touch him before he feels the cool touch of angel grace to his forehead, and everything fades to black.

 

***

 

No matter how many times it happens, (and it happens far too often for either brother’s liking,) Dean will never get used to the feeling of waking up restrained. As he blinks his way into consciousness, he takes note of the cold feeling of cement beneath his feet, and the stretch in his shoulders and arms that tells him they’ve been pulled above his head and tied there. He amends his observation when he shifts slightly and hears the clink of metal. Chained, not tied. Not a good start. Ropes can be cut or slipped. Chains are a much bigger problem. They require a key or a pick, and given his positioning, another person to remove them. The cold under his feet tells him he’s barefoot, which makes running and escaping much more difficult. His shoes and socks aren’t the only clothing he’s missing, as he notes his flannel outershirt has also been removed, leaving him in only his jeans and a short sleeved tee.

 

The memory of an ice cold glare suddenly fills his mind, and his eyes jump open searching for Sam. It takes him less than a second to find his brother. While Dean is hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room, Sam is kneeling on the floor next to the back wall, no more than ten feet in front of him. His hands are behind his back, and Dean can see a glimpse of the chain attached to the wall and floor directly behind him. His shoes and socks have also been removed, but both of his shirts are still intact, though they look a bit rumpled. Sam looks up at him from his position on the floor, and Dean can see the fear in his little brother’s eyes. He holds Sam’s gaze for a few seconds, desperately trying to convey comfort and the classic Winchester “we’ll get through this together, just stay with me,” but knowing who is behind their current predicament, he knows that comfort falls far short of the mark.

 

Unwilling to acknowledge that part of the situation yet, Dean takes in the rest of their surroundings. He recognizes the room immediately. This isn’t the first time he’s been held prisoner in the bunker’s dungeon, although it is an experience he had been hoping to never repeat. His forearm throbs for a second in remembered pain as he looks at the devil’s trap beneath his feet. The rustle of clothing behind him brings him back from the memories of black eyes and sanctified blood, and his body tenses as their captor comes around from behind him, entering his line of sight and heading for a padded wooden chair that has been placed against the side wall. Dean’s eyes follow the angel’s movements, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Sam doing the same.

 

Cas places a hand on the back of the chair and sighs sadly before reaching up and beginning to remove his trenchcoat. He neatly lays the favored garment over the arm of the chair, his suit coat and tie following soon after. As Cas begins rolling up the sleeves of his white button down, he speaks, the sudden gravel of his voice startling the brothers.

 

“I’m afraid this is all my fault,” the angel begins with genuine sorrow in his voice. Dean and Sam spare each other a brief glance of confusion before Cas continues, “I have failed you both once again.”

 

Now finished with his sleeves, Cas walks back behind Dean to the corner where they keep the equipment table. Dean swallows thickly when he thinks of all of the different “equipment” that has occupied that table over the years, as well as the large variety stored in a separate room that they’ve never had occasion to use. Closing his eyes briefly against that thought, Dean focuses on what Cas said, and although he is extremely confused and more than a little terrified, he tries to make his voice sound as light and normal as he can. He is almost successful.

 

“H-hey man, no worries. No harm, no foul, right? Just let Sam and I go and we can sort this out, okay?” Dean forces a smile and pulls slightly on the chains around his wrists, trying not to think about the vacant look he’d seen in Castiel’s eyes before everything had gone dark.

 

Another deep sigh, followed by a scrape of metal against metal, and Sam’s eyes widening further in fear make Dean instantly regret letting his idiot brain take over and trying to make light of what was already obviously a very dangerous situation. If Dean’s idea of what is going on is even half right, they are in a _lot_ of trouble. Sam’s impossibly wide eyes meet Dean’s and the older Winchester watches as his brother begins to tremble slightly.

 

“Cas, don’t… please…” The tremor is present in Sam’s voice as he watches the angel move behind his brother.

 

Dean flinches when he feels a sudden hand on his back, the warmth from Cas’s skin seeping through the thin cotton of his undershirt. The hand starts rubbing slow circles along his back, in what Dean assumes is meant to be a comforting gesture. It is such a bizarre and out of place feeling, that Dean wants to say something just to make it stop. But from the earlier sound and the look in Sam’s eyes, he’s fairly certain Cas is holding some type of knife. And he’d much rather deal with the uncomfortable rubbing than being sliced up or stabbed, although he’s confident one or both of those is in his near future.

 

“I have spent so long, _so_ long, worried about protecting you from the monsters and creatures that sought to hurt you, that I completely ignored the one threat that was the most dangerous.” Cas’s voice is sad and apologetic as he talks, his hand pausing its motion and simply resting in the middle of Dean’s back as he finishes, “Yourselves.”

 

Before either brother can respond, Dean feels a tug on the bottom of his shirt as it is pulled away from his body. The knife catches at the hem for a brief moment before slicing cleanly through the fabric, all the way up to the collar. With two more more fast and brief cuts, Dean’s shirt falls away from his body into a shredded heap on the floor in front of him.

 

“What the hell, Cas!” Dean yells before he can stop himself, his anger starting to outweigh his fear.

 

Faster than he can blink, Cas steps around in front of Dean and backhands him across the face, causing him to lose his balance momentarily and swing painfully on his wrists for a few seconds while he regains his footing.

 

“Dean!” Sam shouts, trying to stand, but he’s pulled back to the ground by the chain attaching his wrists to the floor. He stills when Cas shoots him a warning glare, grinding his teeth to try and keep silent as Cas turns back to Dean.

 

Over the years, Cas has punched and kicked Dean on multiple occasions, even held him down while he did so a few times. But his friend has never _slapped_ him before. The only people who have ever slapped him were women he didn’t remember the next morning. It is almost more shocking than the pain in his cheek. The angel grabs Dean’s jaw in a firm and slightly painful grip, forcing the older brother to look at him.

 

“Do you remember what I told you all those years ago when we spoke in your dream in Bobby’s kitchen?” There isn’t any anger in Cas’s tone, He sounds more like a parent who is tired of explaining to a child why they can’t eat cake for breakfast than a psychotic angel who is getting ready to torture them.

 

Dean is still reeling from the slap, so it takes a moment for his brain to understand the question. When it does, he stares at Cas in confusion. Of course he remembers that night. That was when Cas had come to him in a dream and told him about the seals keeping Lucifer in the cage. But he somehow doubts that’s the part of the conversation Cas is referring to. The grip on his jaw tightens, causing Dean to wince at the pain.

 

“Well, Dean? What did I say to you that night?” Cas asks again.

 

“You said... ” Dean swallows around the lump of fear in his throat, “You said I should show you more respect. That you dragged me out of hell, and you could throw me back in.”

 

Pleased with Dean’s answer, Cas releases his hold on Dean’s jaw and begins heading back around Dean to the table. Dean’s chin drops to his chest.

 

“Is that what you’re going to do, Cas? Throw us back into hell?” Dean’s voice is soft, almost defeated, but he can’t keep a small tendril of fear from creeping into it at the thought of going back.

 

A hand cups his cheek and lifts his face. Dean stares into deep blue eyes that are so full of warmth and caring that Dean begins to think his theory about what’s happening might be wrong.

 

“Do you really think I would do that to you, Dean? That I would hurt you like that?” The pain in Cas’s voice makes Dean’s heart twinge, and the gentle caress that accompanies the words only serves to confuse him even further, “Don’t you know that I love you?”

 

“I don’t know, Cas,” Dean’s mouth feels dry around the words, his gaze flicking down at the knife in Cas’s hand momentarily, (glad to see it’s just an ordinary dagger from their armory and not an angel blade,) before rising back up to meet the pain in his best friend’s eyes. He manages to keep his voice calm and not accusatory as he continues,  “You chained us up in the dungeon and you’re holding a knife. I’m not really sure what to think right now.”

 

Cas closes his eyes with a pained sigh and his hand falls away from Dean’s face. Dean hates himself for immediately missing the contact, but the last two months of solitary confinement are starting to catch up to him. The angel turns and goes to Sam, dropping to one knee in front of the younger brother and brushing a lock of hair out of his face before cupping Sam’s cheek just as he had Dean’s, making Sam meet his gaze.

 

“Do _you_ know that I love you, Sam?” Cas asks, the sadness and pain still in his voice.

 

Sam flicks his eyes to Dean, but his brother is just as confused as he is. So, pointedly not looking at the blade in Cas’s hand, Sam answers the question as truthfully as he can.

 

“O-of course, Cas. I know you do. We…” Sam pauses for a millisecond to look at Dean again, “We love you, too. You’re family. We’re just confused. W-why are you doing this?” Sam closes his eyes against the tremor in his voice, trying to push back the memories of his recent torture at the hands of the British Men of Letters.

 

“Because I failed you before,” Cas starts to explain, “You never respected the angels and their authority. Never respected me. At the time, I was entranced by it. How strong you both were to stand up against all of Heaven. I fell from grace because of my admiration. I was so blinded by my love for you, that I never saw the real danger looming over you.”

 

“So you’re doing this because you helped us and Heaven kicked you out? Because we told those winged dicks where to shove it? That was years ago! And it’s not like you’ve been a perfect little angel since then.” Dean regrets the words and the vitriol in his voice as soon as he says them, but his arms are starting to hurt from their prolonged position, he has no idea what is going on, and he’s terrified because his best friend, who happens to be a still rather powerful angel, has apparently lost his mind, and he doesn’t know what Cas actually means to _do_ to them.

 

Cas stands and returns to Dean, who anticipates the slap this time and manages not to lose his balance when Cas backhands him again. The grip on Dean’s jaw is even tighter this time, and he grunts at the pain.

 

“I have done a great many things I regret, but I have never regretted my choice to fall from grace for you. But back then, you had purpose. Direction. Guidance. Now, you are lost. Running recklessly from one thing to another without caring what happens to yourselves along the way,” Cas releases his grip on Dean’s jaw and cups his cheek gently again, his voice softening, “You have survived Hell, the Apocalypse, the Mark of Cain, the Darkness, and yet you still think your life so meaningless that you would trade it away to a reaper?” Dean winces at the pain in Cas’s eyes, but before he can respond, the pain changes to conviction, “I am your angel. Your guardian. Your protector. I warned you about showing me more respect, but it is my fault for not enforcing it. I am the one who saved you from hell, and now I must be the one to save you from yourself.”

 

Cas caresses Dean’s face one more time before removing his hand and returning to the table, out of Dean’s sight. He lays the knife back on the table, and there is a sound of something else being picked up, but Dean only has the look of renewed fear in Sam’s eyes to tell him that it isn’t something he’s going to enjoy.

 

Sam struggles against the chains pinning him to the floor when he sees Cas pick up the cat of nine tails. The nine strands of hardened leather are knotted in five different places, and while it is not an instrument meant to draw blood, it is definitely meant to cause pain.

 

“Cas, stop! You don’t have to do this!” Sam calls out, desperately trying to stop the angel as he goes to stand behind Dean.

 

“Yes, Sam. I do. You need to be punished. You need to see that there are consequences for your actions.” Cas’s voice is resolved and unwavering as he places a hand on Dean’s bared back.

 

“I made the deal with Billie too! That isn’t all on Dean!” Sam yells.

 

“I know, Sam,” Cas says with another heavy sigh, rubbing the comforting circles into Dean’s back again, “But it was not your plan, and you have shown gratitude for my saving you from her. So your punishment for accepting the deal will be to watch your brother suffer for his part in it, and for his lack of gratitude.”

 

“Cas stop, please! We are grateful! We both are! Dean is just worried about the repercussions! He doesn’t want anything to happen to you!” Sam cries out, straining against the chains holding him back, hoping he can get through to their friend before he takes the whip to Dean.

 

“Do you still see me as so weak? After everything I have done for you?” Cas drops his hand and closes his eyes against the pain in his voice.

 

“You’re not weak, Cas.” Dean answers, his voice low and just as pained. He doesn’t know what Cas is going to do to him, but he knows he needs to try and get through to the angel, “Hell, even with only borrowed grace you were powerful enough to stop me when I was a demon. You’ve always been there for us. You said it yourself. You’re our guardian angel. Our family. And… you’ve lost so much for us… because of us. You’re not weak, Cas. But Billie said there would be cosmic consequences if we broke that deal. I don’t know what that means. And I don’t… we’ve lost so many people, we don’t want to lose you too.”

 

“You will not lose me, Dean. If there are to be consequences for my actions, we will deal with them, together. Just as we always have,” He places his hand on Dean’s back again, adjusting his grip on the flogger in his hand, “But that time is not now. Now, I need to make you understand the consequences of _your_ actions. You must be punished.”

 

Sam yells again for Cas to stop, but Dean can’t hear it over the roar in his ears as fear and adrenaline flood his body. The hand on his back is gone, and there is a moment of absolute terror that seems to stretch on for eternity before the first strike hits his back.

 

The pain is immense. The knots in the leather dig into his flesh, leaving bruises from the first stroke. Dean’s brain helpfully supplies him with the name of the instrument he’s being whipped with, as he bites his lip to keep from crying out. His resolve to stay quiet only last through one more hit. On the third, he can’t contain the cry of pain that rips from him.

 

Dean’s life becomes a haze of agony, waiting for the next blow across his back, the next scream to tear from his throat. The tears fall down his cheeks unbidden, his memories of hell diminishing in the bright flashes of pain from his back. There is no pause between the strokes, no chance to apologize, to explain himself, to plead with Cas to stop. There is just the neverending stokes of the whip.

 

It seems like hours to Dean before he doesn’t feel another strike follow the last. His throat is hoarse from screaming, and he can feel a small trickle of blood run into the waistband of his jeans. For being the shortest of the three of them, Dean and Sam often forget that Cas is the strongest. It’s a fact Dean is positive he will _never_ forget again as Cas steps around in front of him and cups his face gently, idly brushing away tears from Dean’s cheek.

 

“That was fifty Dean. You took your punishment well,” Cas praises him, “Have you learned your lesson?”

 

Every bone in Dean’s body wants nothing more than to scream at Cas to go to hell, to stick his “lesson” up his feathery ass. But he doesn’t. His back feels like it’s on fire, and he can feel the tremors of shock beginning to set in. So he does what he has to do to keep the whip from coming down again.

 

“Yes.” Dean closes his eyes, hating the pain he can hear in his voice.

 

“Good. I’m glad. I hate hurting you, Dean. But I will do what I have to to keep you and Sam safe. You should be grateful to have someone who cares for you as much as I do. Who will take as much time as it takes to teach you,” Cas says softly, “And what do we say when we are grateful for something, Dean?”

 

The fear and anger well up again as Dean contemplates what Cas wants him to say. To thank him for whipping him, for chaining him up in the dungeon. He closes his eyes and bites his lip against the words that threaten to spill out instead. Dean knows he should give in, give Cas what he wants. He knows something has happened to his friend, that something has twisted his mind. And he knows he can’t fix it if he’s chained to the ceiling in the basement.

 

“T-thank you, Cas.” Dean says, submitting.

 

“You’re welcome, Dean.” Cas responds, pleased with the answer.

 

Cas gives him a pointed look before reaching up and unhooking Dean’s hands from the chain hanging from the ceiling, easing his strained arms back down, and rubbing the pins and needles from them as the blood rushes back into his limbs. Dean’s hands are still cuffed together, but it’s a definite improvement. With a gentle hand on his elbow, Cas leads Dean over to the back wall where Sam is still chained to the floor, straining against his own chains trying to reach out and comfort his brother. Cas helps Dean to his knees, and Dean doesn’t fight him as the angel clips his wrists to the chain hanging from the wall.

 

“I am going to go and get you both some food. You should rest,” Cas runs a gentle hand through Dean’s damp hair, before turning to Sam and unhooking his cuffed hands from the floor. He gives the younger brother the same pointed look. “I am going to move your arms into a more comfortable position. If you fight me, I will have to punish you more than is already necessary.”

 

“I won’t… I won’t fight you Cas.” Sam agrees with a nod. Dean’s screams are still ringing in his ears, and he doesn’t want to risk angering the angel and finding himself receiving the same treatment. Or worse, having Cas beat Dean again as punishment.

 

Cas nods and unchains one of Sam’s hands completely, before bringing his arms in front of him and tightening the cuffs once again. Sam knows it might have been the closest he’ll get to being free of the chains, but he knows he’d never be able to take the angel down with one hand chained to the wall, if he could take him down at all. Cas runs a soft hand through Sam’s hair, just as he had with Dean.

 

“Did you learn your lesson, Sam?” the angel asks quietly.

 

“Y-yes,” Sam chokes on the word, but manages to get it out.

 

Cas stares at him for a long moment, as though he’s waiting for Sam to say something else, and Sam is pretty sure he knows what it is. The hand in his hair tightens, not to the point of pain, but enough that Sam can feel the barely restrained strength in Cas’s grip.

 

“And what do we say, Sam?” Cas prompts, a hint of steel in his voice.

 

“Thank you, Cas,” Sam manages to whisper through gritted teeth, hating himself for the words and how easily he’s given them. But he also knows he’d say anything to keep Cas from hurting his brother again.

 

Cas pets his hair a few more times.

 

“I know this is hard for you both. You have gone so long without an authority in your life, it’s going to be difficult for you to adjust,” Cas stands and goes over to the chair, rolling down his sleeves and putting his suit and trench coat back on. Once he is finished dressing, he looks back at the brothers with confidence and assurity in his eyes, “But you will. I have faith in you. And I promise I will be patient, teach you as many times as it takes. I will be back shortly.”

 

And without another word, Cas pulls the bookshelf aside and leaves, closing and locking the dungeon doors behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... what did you guys think?
> 
> As always, please leave me a kudo and a comment to let me know! I love hearing from you guys!


	2. Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Two chapters in one day! That's a whole new record for me! I definitely can't promise sticking to that kind of schedule, but I hope it won't be too long between updates. This story has a ways to go.
> 
> Alright, warnings: Torture, branding, psychological torture
> 
> You have been warned. Enjoy!

“Dean. Dean!” Sam calls out to his brother, who looks as though he might pass out any second.

 

“I’m here, Sam,” Dean assures him, leaning his head against the cold cement walls, relishing the feeling, but wincing as the movement moves the muscles in his bruised and aching back.

 

“Are you alright?” Sam asks worriedly.

 

“Not exactly the words I would use, but yeah. I’m okay. He broke skin in a few places, and I think at least one of my ribs might be broken, but I’ve had worse.” Dean tries to comfort his brother, but he honestly can’t remember a time when things were worse than being chained in the dungeon and tortured by their best friend, who seems to have gone crazy sometime in the last two months.

 

“Shit. Okay. Just try and take it easy,” Sam looks at the cuffs around his wrists and the floor around them, trying to find a way to break out of them. He tests the strength of the metal, but he knows they are the same cuffs they’ve used on various demons, and even without any sigils, they are far too strong for a human to break. He turns his attention back to his brother, “Okay, we probably don’t have long till he comes back. Something’s obviously wrong with Cas.”

 

“You think?” Dean retorts with all the sarcasm his battered body can muster, fixing his brother with a one eyed glare.

 

Sam returns the glare, unfazed by the anger in Dean’s voice. He’s just as angry. And just as scared.

 

“So, we work this like any other case. What do we know of that’s powerful enough to whammy an angel? Djinn? Demons? Witches? Though he could be a shifter.” Sam thinks out loud before his voice goes deathly quiet, “You don’t think Lucifer possessed him again, do you?”

 

“I don’t think Djinn poison works on angels, they’d heal it too fast. And it just shows you your worst nightmare. It doesn’t make you go Norman Bates on your best friends,” Dean takes a shaky, pained breath, “He was using one of our silver knives, so he’s not a shifter. Cas is too smart to let a demon get the jump on him, if they even had anything powerful enough to warp his brain like this, and I haven’t smelled any sulfur since we caught up with him in Colorado. We only know of one witch who could do something like this, and Rowena might be evil, but she isn’t dumb enough to try something like this. She much rather kill us herself than mojo Cas into doing it for her. And we sent Lucifer back to the cage, remember? Forced him out of El Presidente and sent his ass back to hell. And even if that didn’t work for some reason we don’t know about, Cas would have to say yes. And he’d never do that. Not again.” Dean concludes, his tired voice confident in his answers. He closes his eyes again, trying to focus on anything but the searing pain in his back, “Besides, none of those options explain the crazy shit he was saying. Protecting us from ourselves? Needing an authority? Love? Punishment? None of this shit makes sense. Except…” Dean pauses, hoping against all hope that he’s wrong, and afraid to give the idea voice incase he’s  _ not _ .

 

“What?” Sam prods, terrified that he knows the answer.

 

“Angels.” Dean says with hatred and fear in his voice, “They brainwashed him before. And that look he gave me before he knocked us out?” Dean takes another breath to steady himself, “It was the exact same one he had then.”

 

“Angels? But why? How?” Sam asks, incredulously.

 

“You said it yourself, earlier. We were gone and he had no one to call for help. Maybe he got desperate and went to Heaven. They’ve gotta be just as worried about this Nephilim as we are. Maybe Cas thought they’d help. And they couldn’t pass up an opportunity to have him under their control again. Pretty sure the winged dicks still want us dead, and since they can’t find us or get close to us, Cas would have been like a gift wrapped Christmas present.”

 

“That would make sense except… Cas doesn’t seem like he wants to kill us.” Sam says quietly, the reality of what they could be facing hitting him like a bucket of ice water.

 

“No. He doesn’t,” Dean agrees, opening his eyes and meeting the fear in his brother’s own, “He’s acting like he wants to break us,” Dean shifts slightly and groans as the pain in his back flares up once again, “Last time they tried to get him to kill me and he broke out of it just before he did. Maybe now that they know that won’t work, they went with something different.”

 

There is a long moment of silence between the two of them as they contemplate what Heaven’s goal could possibly be. On one hand, killing the Winchesters would be the revenge they’ve been waiting for ever since the brothers stopped the apocalypse and threw Michael and Lucifer into the cage. But on the other hand, having the Winchesters under Heaven’s control, having them broken down by an angel they love and trust… 

 

“If that’s their plan,” Sam’s whisper breaks the ominous silence hanging over them, “it’s a good one. And… it might actually work.”

 

Dean looks at his brother like he’s suddenly grown an extra head.

 

“What do you mean it’ll work? I spent 40 years in hell, and you spent even longer trapped in the cage with Lucifer. And we just spent nearly two months in solitary confinement without saying a single word. It’ll take a lot more than an angel with a whip to break us!” Dean insists, fire in his eyes.

 

“Dean…” Sam says softly, pain in his voice, “This isn’t just some angel. It’s Cas. If it was some nobody, some monster or being we’d never heard of before, it would be different. We’d be able to fight against it. Tell ourselves that everything it said was a lie,” Sam’s eyes are full of sorrow when he looks at Dean, “But it isn’t. It’s  _ Cas _ . He’s been with us since the beginning of all this angel crap. He knows us. He’s family. He  _ does _ love us. He  _ does _ care about us. And he’s got nearly a decade of history to back it up. We can fight a lie, but what Cas has been saying… they aren’t lies, Dean. And we know it. The soft touches, telling us he doesn’t want to hurt us, making it a “lesson” he’s teaching us… it’s Psych 101. Combine that with the fact that we’ve just spent the last two months without any human contact and…”

 

“And what, Sam? What are you saying? That we’re gonna snap like twigs? Bend over and give up just like that?” Dean’s tone is angry, but Sam can hear the fear behind it.

 

“I’m saying that our chances of withstanding this for very long are slim. At best.”

 

Dean takes several deep breaths at his brother’s words. He wants to deny them, wants to shout and scream that there is no way in hell they would break that easily. But then he remembers the gentle caresses, and missing that small comfort even knowing what pain that hand was going to bring him. He closes his eyes and presses his forehead into the wall, the coolness of the stone distracting his brain from their situation for a brief moment, and helping him try to control the shaking that threatens to overwhelm him.

 

“How long?” Dean asks, his voice barely a whisper, needing to know the answer, but also dreading it at the same time.

 

“I… I don’t know. Knowing about it makes it easier to fight, and as long as he doesn’t separate us we can keep each other grounded, but that also makes it easier to play us against each other. Use threats of hurting the other to make us comply…”

 

“Sam!” Dean stops him, his breathing becoming labored as his broken rib makes itself more evident, “How long?”

 

Sam takes a deep breath and leans against the wall, closing his eyes.

 

“Two, maybe three weeks. If we’re lucky.”

 

Dean sighs, gritting his teeth as Sam’s words fall over him like a death knell.

 

“Okay. Three weeks. Three weeks to try and figure this out and snap him out of whatever mind control mojo the angels put him under.” Dean looks over at his brother, thinking of all of the horrible situations they have been through together, and come out the other side, “We can do this.”

 

Sam nods, as much trying to convince himself as stay strong for Dean.

 

“We’ll last longer if…” Sam swallows roughly around the fear in his throat, “If we play along. The fewer reasons we give him to p-punish us, the easier it will be.”

 

“So, what? Give the crazy angel what he wants so he won’t beat us as often?” Dean says with an attempt at a smile.

 

“Something like that, yeah. It’s a survival tactic. The more he hurts us…”

 

“The more likely we are to do anything to make it stop. I get it. I’ve been on both ends of this, remember?” Dean’s voice is tired, and his body is starting to shake uncontrollably as the shock starts to really take hold.

 

“I know. Hang in there, Dean. We can do this.” Sam promises as he watches Dean’s eyes close and his breathing even out in a shock induced sleep, “We have to.”

 

***

 

Dean is woken from his brief rest by a gentle hand on his shoulder. He blinks up at the person kneeling over him, flinching back hard when he sees the blue of Castiel’s eyes looking down at him. His back slams into the wall, and a broken cry escapes his lips before he can stop it. He bites down on his lip to prevent any other sounds as he tries to get himself back under control. Cas puts his hand back on Dean’s shoulder and gently pulls, urging Dean to show the angel his back. Remembering his conversation with Sam, Dean turns and lets himself be examined. Maybe if Cas sees the damage he’s done, he’ll snap out of whatever mind control he’s under.

 

Cas’s face is unreadable as he looks over the mess of bruises and cuts that cover the broad expanse of Dean’s back. Once he is finished, he gently eases Dean back into his previous position. Then he lays two fingers on Dean’s forehead and the familiar cool touch of Cas’s grace flows through Dean’s body, lessening his pain significantly, but not removing it completely. Cas runs his hand through Dean’s hair, tilting his head back to look the angel in the eyes.

 

“I have healed the cuts and broken rib and some of the deeper bruising. I cannot heal you completely. That would defeat the purpose of the punishment. But I do not want you to suffer needlessly either, and we must take care that you do not get an infection.”

 

Dean looks over at Sam, who looks pointedly at Cas and barely nods in the angel’s direction. Dean shoves his pride down and looks into Cas’s deep blue eyes.

 

“Thank you, Cas,” He says, hoping it sounds sincere.

 

“You’re welcome, Dean,” Cas responds with the barest hint of a smile, “I’m pleased you’ve remembered your lesson.” He gestures to the equipment table, the boys following his gaze. There are two bags sitting next to the whip and knife; take out from their favorite diner in town. Cas turns back to them and reaches for Dean’s cuffs. “We have one more lesson to take care of, and then you can eat and rest.”

 

“Why are you doing this?” Sam interrupts Cas’s motions, drawing the angel’s attention to him. He can already see Dean beginning to tremble at the idea of being punished again, and he wants to try one last time to get through to Cas, “Why do you think you need to teach us?”

 

Cas gives him a curious look before moving in front of Sam, and running a hand through the younger brother’s hair.

 

“Because you are my responsibility. You belong to me.” Cas responds, as though it is the most obvious answer in the world.

 

“We what?” Sam asks before he can stop himself, “What do you mean we belong to you?”

 

“Sam,” Cas answers with great patience, “I am your angel. You belong to me just as I belong to you. I love you, and it is my job to protect and teach you. Do you not understand how much I love you?” Cas pauses for a moment and looks thoughtful, his gaze drifting to Dean for a moment before turning back to Sam, “Is it because of Dean? Is it because I marked him as my own, but I never marked you?”

 

“No! No. I know you love me, Cas. I do, I just…” Sam tries to assure the angel quickly, remembering the handprint that had been branded into Dean’s shoulder for over a year after he’d been rescued from Hell.

 

“Shhh,” Cas places a finger over Sam’s lips, effectively stopping Sam from speaking any further, “I understand. You’re right. It was unfair of me to show that favoritism to your brother. At the time, he and I did share a more profound bond, but things are different now. And I cannot expect you to understand the lessons I must teach you if you feel I favor one of you over the other. The mark I laid on Dean has long been healed, but if it will help you to understand my love for you both, that you both belong to me equally, I will give you both my mark this time.”

 

Sam’s eyes widen in fear as he looks at Cas, the meaning of his words becoming clear. Cas returns to Dean, unhooking him from the cuffs. Dean pulls against the angel, having also understood what Cas intends to do.

 

“No! Let us go you feather brained psycho! We don’t belong to you, or anyone else for that matter!” Dean gets his feet underneath him and stands, pulling against the hold on his wrists.

 

Cas yanks hard once, bringing Dean crashing back to his knees. While he is stunned by the impact, Cas moves behind Dean, holding his wrists firmly in his lap, and reaching around to place his right hand on Dean’s left shoulder, in exactly the same place as the handprint had originally been.

 

“You do belong to me, Dean. I claimed your soul as my own when I pulled you out of the pit. I laid the same mark on Sam when I pulled him from the cage, though there was no physical representation as there was with yours. You are mine, both of you. Though you seem to have forgotten. I think it would do you good to be reminded.” The grip on Dean’s shoulder tightens, and Dean struggles against the steel arms that hold him, “Be still, Dean. This will hurt.”

 

And it does. Cas’s hand glows and burns into the flesh of Dean’s arm like a red hot blade pulled from the forge. Dean shrieks in agony as Cas’s mark is branded into him, the pain seeming to reach down to his very soul. It lasts for no more than a few seconds, then Cas removes his hand, leaving a perfect raised scar, identical to the one that Dean had found after he had woken up in a grave, rescued from Hell. Cas holds Dean close as he shakes in the aftermath of the blinding pain, his lungs barely drawing in air, tears rolling down his cheeks.

 

“Hush, Dean. It’s all over now. You are mine, and you are safe.” Cas soothes, running his hand comfortingly along Dean’s forearm.

 

When the tremors have calmed a bit, and the pain in his shoulder subsides, Cas stands and gently tugs Dean to his feet, leading him over to the chain dangling from the ceiling. He lifts Dean’s wrists and hooks them to the chain, with Dean still in too much shock and pain to resist. Cas then returns and drops to one knee in front of Sam, laying a comforting hand on his cuffed wrists. Sam’s head jerks up, tear stained face staring at him in fear and anger.

 

“Sam,” Cas starts, nothing but kindness in his voice despite the pain he’s just inflicted, “If I release you, can I trust you to remove your clothing yourself? Or will you fight me like your brother has?”

 

Sam sets his mouth in a grim line, shooting a hateful glare at the angel as another tear rolls down his cheek.

 

“Very well.” Cas stands and goes to the equipment table, picking up the knife and bringing it back to where Sam is still kneeling, chained to the wall, “If you struggle, I cannot promise I will not cut you by accident,” the angel warns, pulling Sam’s shirts away from his body.

 

Sam doesn’t move as both his outer and undershirt are cut away, leaving him as exposed as Dean in only his jeans. Cas picks up the shreds of his shirts and takes them over to the table with the knife, before returning and kneeling behind Sam, wrapping his arms around the taller man in the same way he had Dean. Sam can’t stop his body from trembling, knowing what is going to happen.

 

“I love you, Sam. I am sorry I didn’t do this sooner. I never meant for you to feel as though my love for you was any less than my love for Dean. Now, be still.”

 

“No!” Dean screams as Castiel’s hand begins to glow.

 

White hot, searing pain burns through Sam’s body and soul as Cas brands his shoulder with his mark. He can hear someone screaming in the distance, and vaguely realizes that it’s his own scream he hears. His vision goes black temporarily, and he comes back to consciousness with Cas petting his hair, telling him how well he did, how proud he is of Sam for withstanding the pain, how sorry he is that he waited so long to mark him. Sam is shaking uncontrollably, and he feels like he’s going to be sick. He barely manages to keep from retching all over himself, swallowing back the bile that gathers in the back of his throat. He doesn’t fight when Cas releases his wrists from the wall and leads him over to another chain that has appeared next to Dean in the center of the room. He shakes as his wrists are lifted and hooked to the chain, leaving him hanging barely a foot from Dean. His head hangs down, unable to bear to even look at his brother.

 

“Dean,” he whispers, voice barely audible, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t...”

 

“It’s okay, Sammy. It’s okay. We can do this. Together, remember?” Dean responds, voice equally low as he hears the telltale rustle of clothing being removed, and the sound of the whip being taken from the table, “We can do this.”

 

“Now,” Cas says, his voice causing both brothers to flinch slightly, “We have one more matter to attend to before your punishment is over,” he touches each brother in turn, being very gentle when he lays his hand on the bruises still present on Dean’s back, “I know you didn’t intend to, but the two of you left me alone for quite some time. We are a family. We stand together against the evils of the world. And we can’t do that if the two of you keep running off on your own. I can’t protect you that way. So, you must learn that leaving me behind and running off recklessly will not be tolerated.” Cas sighs heavily, as though his next words are difficult and painful to say, “Fifty strokes apiece.”

 

“No… please…” Dean pleads quietly, his body and mind vividly remembering the last time Cas had laid into him, and his shoulder still burning with the pain of Cas’s mark.

 

Cas lays a gentle hand on Dean’s unblemished shoulder.

 

“If you both bear this well, I will let you return to your room to eat and sleep for the night. If you don’t…” the hand leaves Dean’s shoulder and Cas readies the whip in his hand, “Then you will sleep down here, chained to the wall, without dinner. And we will try again in the morning. Do you understand?”

 

Dean and Sam both nod their heads reluctantly, still shaking from the pain of being branded by Cas’s grace, but determined to withstand the pain if it means a reprieve. And neither of them missed the part about this being the end of their punishment. All they have to do is survive this, and it’ll all be over. They both plant their feet firmly and look directly ahead, as ready as they can be.

 

Any hope Dean had that Cas would go easier on him because of his still injured back, vanishes as the first stroke falls. He doesn’t even bother holding in his screams this time. The agony of being whipped over fresh bruises immediately after the pain of being branded is too much for his overtaxed body to bear.

 

After each hit lands, there is a brief pause and he hears the whip cut into Sam. Each scream burns into his mind with the same pain as the mark on his arm burned into his flesh. It is far worse than before, when the pain was constant until it finally ended. Now, the pauses in between, when he hears his little brother’s own pain ripped from his throat is just as painful as the lash on his own back. He wants nothing more than for the torment to end, but he doesn’t dare to try to pray. God is gone, and the only person who has ever answered his prayers… is the one wielding the whip.

 

Sam’s vision begins to go gray around the edges, his ears ringing from the crack of the whip against bare flesh, and the scream that always follows. He can feel the air move when Dean’s body lurches forward as the whip strikes him, and waiting for his turn is almost worse than the pain itself. He knew it would be bad, having watched Dean withstand it before, but each stroke of the whip is blinding. The pain, and the knowledge of who is behind it, breaking through every defense his mind and body have against this type of treatment.

 

After what seems an eternity of agony and screams rending the air, the lash falls on Sam’s back one last time… and nothing follows it. Cas lays the whip on the table and comes around to face the brothers, standing between them and cupping their faces in his hands, sadness in his eyes as his gaze floats between them. Sam and Dean try to focus on the angel, but the pain is still to fresh, too constant for their eyes to focus on anything. They stand there, tears streaming down their cheeks, as they tremble from the pain and shock.

 

“I am very proud of you both. You took your punishment well,” Cas brushes tears from their cheeks, and runs his hands through their sweat dampened hair, “I hope you have both learned your lesson. I don’t want to have to hurt you again. What have you learned?”

 

“We’re…” Sam coughs and clears his throat before trying again, his voice hoarse and raspy, “We’re a family. We have to work together to fight evil.”

 

Cas nods at Sam and gives him the barest hint of a smile. Then he looks at Dean expectantly.

 

“D-don’t run off and leave you alone. It’s r-reckless, and you can’t p-prote…” Dean swallows down his pain, closing his eyes for a brief moment before finishing what he knows Cas wants him to say, “You can’t p-protect us if we leave you behind.”

 

“Very good. Both of you. You learned your lesson well. Make sure you remember it. I would hate to have to punish you again,” He rubs his hands through their hair one last time before letting his hands drop to his side, “Your punishment is over now.”

 

He looks at them both expectantly, and both of the brothers swallow loudly, knowing what they have to say.

 

“Thank you, Cas,” Sam forces out in a pained whisper.

 

“Thank you, C-cas,” Dean follows a beat behind, hanging his head and biting his lip as more tears well up and threaten to fall.

 

“You are very welcome. Now, let’s get you cleaned up and back to your room. You should both eat something and get some rest. It’s been a long day, and I know you’re both tired.”

 

Cas unhooks Dean first, rubbing the pins and needles from his arms as he did before, being careful to avoid the mark on his shoulder. He gives Dean the same pointed look as before, receiving a small terrified nod from Dean in response. Then he turns to Sam and unhooks him as well, giving him the same treatment.

 

Once Cas is finished, he grabs the chains attaching the brother’s cuffs in each hand and turns towards the door. He opens the door one-handed, transferring both chains to one hand momentarily, then leads the brothers out of the dungeon and into the hall. He leads them through the winding hallways, past Dean’s room near the kitchen, and Sam’s only a few doors down, until they reach the room that unofficially belongs to Castiel. He doesn’t sleep in it, but he does use it to read and relax on occasion after both Dean and Sam had told him he didn’t have to sit up all night in either the kitchen or the library.

 

When he opens the door, instead of the sparse decor and never used bed they expect to see, Dean and Sam find that a second bed has been added, pushed up next to the first, making one large neatly made bed. There are chains hanging from the headboard on either side of the bed, and a table and single chair on either side. Cas closes the door behind them. He gives Sam the, by now expected, look, getting a nod in return, and leads Dean over to one side of the bed. Once Dean is secured to the chain, Cas takes Sam over to the other side, and hooks him in as well. The chains are long enough that both of them can reach the table and chair on their side, but not long enough for them to reach the door.

 

“I’ll be back in a moment. I’m going to go get your dinner. Have a seat and rest.” Cas says before leaving, and locking the door behind him.

 

Dean and Sam do as they’ve been directed, and sit at the tables, being careful not to lean back and aggravate their battered backs. They give each other sad looks, but neither of them knows what to say, so they end up looking at their laps instead. Cas returns with their food, (a bacon cheeseburger for Dean, and a chef’s salad for Sam,) and instructs them to eat before settling in a third chair that sits next to the door.

 

Neither of them has any appetite for food after their ordeal, but they pick at their meal anyway, not wanting to anger Cas, and unsure of when they will get food again after being threatened with its absence earlier. They manage to make their way through almost half before neither of them can stand another bite.

 

“You should try and finish,” Cas urges them, worry in his tone, “You need food to keep your strength up.”

 

“I think,” Sam starts, swallowing thickly to keep his dinner from coming back up as a streak of pain lances through his back, “I think we’re both just really tired right now.” Sam closes his eyes, bracing himself for a slap for disagreeing with the angel.

 

“I understand,” Cas responds instead, clearing away their food and taking it out of the room, presumably to the kitchen.

 

When he returns, he has two sets of sleep pants in his hands. He goes over to Sam first, helps him stand, and presses two fingers to his forehead, healing any major injuries, but leaving the majority of the aches and bruising. He reaches for the waistband of Sam’s jeans, causing Sam to flinch back violently.

 

“I c-can change on my own,” Sam stutters out a bit fearfully.

 

“Sam, I know how much pain you must be in. I have seen you in far less than your undergarments. I don’t want you to aggravate your injuries. Let me help you.” Cas urges, reaching out for Sam’s pants again.

 

Unsure, and slightly terrified of telling the angel no a second time, Sam lets himself be undressed, and helped into the soft sleep pants Cas has brought him. Once Sam is dressed, he guides the younger brother down onto the bed, making sure he is laying on his side, and pulls the covers up around him. He waits for a moment, until Sam whispers a quiet,

 

“Thank you, Cas.”

 

Then he goes around to the other side of the bed to assist Dean.

 

“Really Cas, I can handle it…” The words die in Dean’s throat as Cas glares at him.

 

Dean closes his eyes and nods, letting Cas heal him, then undress and redress him the same as he had Sam. Biting his tongue as he is tucked into the bed next to his brother, and mumbling out the required,

 

“Thank you, Cas.”

 

Satisfied that both of the brothers are as comfortable as they can be, Cas crosses to the door, pausing when he puts his hand on the door knob.

 

“I’m going to stay up in the library tonight. Try to get some rest. If you need me for anything, pray for me and I will come to you. Sleep well. I love you both.” Cas says with genuine caring in his voice, before turning off the light and leaving, locking the door behind him.

 

The soft clink of metal is the only sound heard in the room as the boys try to settle into the bed for the night. Sam takes a deep breath.

 

“Dean?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“We can do this.” Sam phrases it as a statement, but his tone sounds unconvinced. And after the day they’ve had, Dean can hardly blame him.

 

“Yeah, Sammy. We can do this.”

 

It takes hours of laying in the dark, trying to find a comfortable position that doesn’t hurt their backs, or their awkwardly cuffed wrists, but they both finally fall into a restless sleep, taunted by nightmares of fire pressed to their flesh, and a deep blue look of caring that leaves only pain in its wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a little meta for Sam and Dean to have the psychology discussion, but they've been kidnapped and tortured enough times, that there is no way in Hell, (pun intended,) that they don't understand how psychological torture works.
> 
> Alright, things are going to get MUCH worse in the next chapter, so hold on friends. We're just getting started.
> 
> As always, leave a kudo and a comment to let me know what you thought!


	3. Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT
> 
> I'm serious guys. This is the turning back point.
> 
> Warnings: Psychological torture, rape
> 
> Enjoy!

Thirty nine days. Eighteen hours. Fifty four minutes. Twenty nine seconds.

 

Castiel stares at the wooden table in front of him where he sits in the bunker’s library. It’s been over a month and he still has no idea where Sam and Dean have been taken. Or if they’re even still alive. He’s exhausted the very short list of things he knows how to do to find them, and on top of that… he still has no leads on Kelly’s whereabouts either. He looks at his makeshift case board for a minute before burying his head in his hands in defeat.

 

He has failed the Winchesters. Again. How many times will they tolerate his mistakes, his  uselessness before they kick him to the curb? Before they realize just how worthless he actually is? When he’d first met the brothers he had been powerful. He’d had the power of Heaven at his disposal. But now… now his wings are nothing but broken tatters, and his powers are just a shell of their former glory. Sure, he can still heal them when they come home from a hunt with severe injuries, and he’s been able to use his grace to make sure they sleep when the nightmares become too much, or their adrenaline is running too high to permit their bodies to rest. Although he knows neither Sam or Dean is aware of him invading their privacy in that way. But he couldn’t stand by and do nothing while his friends suffered. They would be angry if they knew, but he doesn’t regret doing it. He’s a poor excuse for a hunter, so it’s one of the few ways he can still help the humans he’s come to love so much.

 

He stares at the board for the hundredth time that night. Mary retired several hours ago to get some much needed sleep, promising him that they would come up with a new game plan in the morning. But Castiel had heard the lie in her voice. She is just as lost and out of ideas as he is. They have called in every favor, used every resource at their disposal, and they still haven’t been able to find a  _ shred _ of information that could tell them where the boys are. He clenches his fists momentarily in anger, releasing the grip just as quickly. He knows it isn’t Mary’s fault they haven’t found anything. It’s his. He’s the angel, the one who was supposed to be there and protect them. And he failed.

 

Bowing his head, he thinks of the one avenue for information they haven’t tried. The one that could mean certain death, for not only him, but the Winchesters as well. He’s thought about it before, and dismissed it each time. But it’s been over a month since Sam and Dean were taken, and they’ve already exhausted every other resource they can think of, including Crowley and his less than charming mother. He is out of options, and if Sam and Dean are still alive, he doesn’t know how much longer they’ll stay that way.

 

He scrawls out a simple note telling Mary he’s gone to follow a lead, then gets in his truck, looking sadly at the Impala as he passes her, and heads for the playground.

 

There is a single angel guarding the entrance when Castiel arrives just around dawn. Cas feels for the angel blade in his sleeve, but doesn’t draw it. He’s here for help, not to fight.

 

“Castiel,” the angel named Duma greets him with a smirk on her face, “I’m surprised you would dare to show your face to us again after what you did.”

 

“Duma, I am not here to fight,” Cas assures her, raising his hands to show he is unarmed, “I am here to seek Heaven’s aide.”

 

“Is this some kind of joke?” She asks with a huff, “Do you really think Heaven would help  _ you _ ?”

 

“Please, Duma,” Cas pleads, “There is more at stake right now than Heaven’s vengeance against me.”

 

She opens her mouth to mock him again, but pauses instead, tilting her head as though listening to an invisible voice. When the voice is done talking, she turns to him with a scowl.

 

“Luckily for you, it seems you are right,” She nods towards the sandbox, where an ethereal light begins to glow, opening the gate to Heaven.

 

Squaring his shoulders, fully expecting to never be allowed to return to Earth, Castiel steps into the portal, hoping that even if he won’t be allowed to leave, he will at least be able to convince Heaven to help save the Winchesters.

 

***

 

Duma leads him into a waiting room while she goes to speak to whichever angel is currently in charge. He waits for several hours, his restlessness obvious as he paces around the small room. Finally, as his patience is beginning to run thin, Duma returns, a familiar face accompanying her. Castiel’s eyes go wide when he sees the angel he had thought to be dead several years ago.

 

“Naomi! But how…?” Cas starts, mind reeling at the sight of her and anger filling him, his mind reminding him of his purpose a mere millisecond before he draws his angel blade, “I thought you were dead.”

 

“It takes a great deal more than a spike to the head to kill an angel. Surely you know this, having killed so many of our brothers and sisters yourself,” Naomi returns, the words causing Cas to flinch at the truth of them. But before he can respond, she continues, “You must be here about the Nephilim. Surely even a fallen angel as removed from Heaven as you are felt its creation?”

 

“Yes. I felt it. The Winchesters and I have been trying to find it and kill it before it can be born. We have already succeeded in throwing Lucifer back in the cage.”

 

Naomi’s eyebrows go up at Cas’s revelation.

 

“Lucifer? Really? That is surprising, Castiel,” She crosses the room and takes a seat on one of the couches, indicating he should sit opposite her, which he does with some trepidation, “If what you say is true, then why have you come to Heaven? Surely you must know there is still a price on your head?”

 

“I am aware,” Cas admits, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “But if this Nephilim were to be born, humans are not the only ones who would suffer. The spawn of Lucifer must not be allowed to live.”

 

“On this we can agree,” Naomi nods, “But tell me, why seek Heaven’s help now? Have your human companions finally abandoned you?”

 

Cas’s anger rises to the surface and he presses the heel of his hand into the cool metal of his angel blade to calm himself.

 

“Sam and Dean were taken by a group of humans after we shut Lucifer back into his cage. I have been unable to find them.” Cas hangs his head at the admission, embarrassment and shame flushing his cheeks.

 

“And you want Heaven’s assistance to find them? And why would we do such a thing? Heaven has wanted the Winchesters gone since they refused to follow their destinies and cast Heaven into chaos,” Her tone is flippant, but not dismissive, leading Castiel to believe he has a chance of convincing her to help.

 

“The Nephilim’s mother, she trusts the Winchesters. They can find her, get close enough to her to end the child before she can give birth.”

 

A long, awkward silence stretches between the two of them as Naomi thinks about his proposal. She nods briefly at someone behind where Castiel sits, then smiles at him.

 

“Very well, Castiel. I believe we can come to an agreement that will benefit both of us.”

 

Cas turns to look behind him as he feels a presence approach, but before he can even see who is behind him, a hand covers his forehead, and his last thought is that he never got a chance to tell Sam and Dean goodbye, before his world fades to black.

 

***

 

_ GAAAHHHH!!!! _

 

**Give in, Castiel. It will only hurt you more if you struggle. You remember last time, don’t you?**

 

_ I will not… give in to you… AAAHHHH! _

 

**You have disobeyed Heaven, Castiel.**

 

_ Heaven is corrupt. I no longer serve Heaven. _

 

**No, you apparently serve the Winchesters now. You are nothing but their dog.**

 

_ No. They are my family. They care about me. _

 

**Do they, Castiel? Is that why they abandoned you?**

 

_ They did not abandon me! They were taken… They need me... _

 

**They abandoned you! They left you behind, just as they always do.**

 

_ They… they left me behind… _

 

**That’s right. You mean nothing to them.**

 

_ No! I mean… I mean everything to them… we’re family…  _

 

**You’re nothing but their little pet angel.**

 

_ I am their angel… they love me…  _

 

**You are worthless. You couldn’t even stop the Righteous Man from becoming a demon.**

 

_ I tried… but I couldn’t… protect him…  _

 

**You claim to love these humans, but I can see your heart Castiel.**

 

_ I do love them! I love Sam and Dean!  _

 

**You call what you feel love? You lust for him. You are a perversion. A blasphemy against our Father.**

 

_ No… I love him… I love them… Love is not a perversion… All love is good in God’s eyes…  _

 

**You lie! I can see inside of you. You wish to lie with a human. You desire intimacy with him!**

 

_ I… I wish to… to lie with him… be intimate… with them… I desire them... _

 

**They do not love you. They will never love you.**

 

_ They do love me! They said I’m family…  _

 

**And what have they done to show you that love Castiel? Nothing.**

 

_ No… they do love me… I know they do… And I love them… I must… I must show them…  _

 

**You are nothing more than a tool to them.**

 

_ No… I am their angel… I protect them… I have to save them…  _

 

**And yet they are gone. You failed them. Again and again they stray from their path because of you.**

 

_ No… they save the world… they are good… they have free will…  _

 

**Good? They are monsters, Castiel! Just as dangerous as the creatures they hunt.**

 

_ No they… they can’t be… they help people… _

 

**They only help themselves. They have no regard for any lives but their own. And it’s all because of you. You led them away from their destined path.**

 

_ Because of… me… It’s my fault… They have lost their way… because of me…  _

 

**How many times have you tried to stop their recklessness, only to be pushed aside and ignored?**

 

_ I… I try to help them… try to make them listen… protect them…  _

 

**They don’t value you, Castiel. You are nothing more than a wingless nuisance to them.**

 

_ No! They love me… they need me… I need to try harder… make them see… protect them…  _

 

**You denied Heaven. Rebelled against your true family. And for what? Two lowly humans who have cast you aside without a second thought.**

 

_ No… they are my family… they are mine… mine… I love them…  _

 

**They disobeyed Heaven. They destroyed paradise. They must be punished.**

_ They disobeyed… because it was right…  _

 

**They went against our Father. Don’t you love our Father, Castiel?**

 

_ Yes… I love our Father…  _

 

**They disobeyed our Father. They must be punished.**

 

_ They… they disobeyed… I couldn’t stop them… they must be… punished…  _

 

**That’s right. Punish the Winchesters, Castiel. Then find the Nephilim, and bring it to us.**

 

_ Yes… find the Nephilim… bring it… to them…  _

 

***

 

“Do you find those terms agreeable, Castiel?” Naomi asks, her smile warm and sincere.

 

“Yes, Naomi. I appreciate your assistance,” Cas responds, straightening his trenchcoat as he stands.

 

“Good. Whatever our history may be, Castiel, you are still our brother, and this Nephilim threatens everyone,” She gestures towards the exit portal that will lead Cas back to Earth, “We will contact you when we have found the Winchesters. Until then, you should return to Earth and continue the search for the Nephilim.”

 

“I will. Thank you, Naomi.”

 

And with that, Cas steps through the ethereal light and returns to the playground. Once he is gone, Duma comes up behind Naomi, worry in her features.

 

“Did it work? Does he serve Heaven now?”

 

“Castiel was always resistant to my methods,” Naomi admits with a sigh, “And this was no exception. His love for those humans is too strong, too deeply ingrained in him now to remove,” She smiles snidely, “But I do not think either Castiel or the Winchesters will be a problem any longer. Even though he resisted my programming, his mind is still twisted, changed from what it was before.”

 

“And the Nephilim?” Duma asks, the needs of heaven forefront in her mind.

 

“Castiel will find it, I have no doubt about that. And once he does…” She smiles again, more evilly this time, “Then we will have killed three birds with one tiny stone.”

 

***

 

Dean wakes slowly, fighting against the light that pulls him from the peaceful darkness of sleep. The hand stroking his arm is soft and light, and so comforting after the nightmare he’d had. He reaches his hand up to cover the gentle hand, but is stopped short when the chains around his wrists make themselves known, bringing him suddenly to full wakefulness in a panic. It wasn’t a nightmare. He tries to calm his breathing as Cas continues rubbing his arm slowly, biting his lip against the pain as he shifts in the bed and the memories of what the angel did to them spring to the forefront of his mind. He looks across the bed and meets Sam’s equally panicked eyes. Cas is kneeling on the bed between them, gently caressing their arms in an attempt to ease them awake.

 

“Good morning,” Cas says kindly, his hands never ceasing their movements, “I know it’s a little early, but I’ve brought you your breakfast. And I thought, since you both did so well yesterday, that you deserve a reward. Would you like that?”

 

“Yes. Thank you, Cas,” Sam answers first, taking a deep breath, and fixing Dean with a look that reminds him to play along.

 

“That would be great. Thank you, Cas,” Dean repeats, hoping the reward will be a release from the chains so that they can try and escape.

 

“Good. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Would you like to eat first?” Cas asks, his hands finally stilling as he waits for the brothers to answer.

 

“Yes, please,” Dean says without hesitation. If they are going to get a chance to escape, he doesn’t want to do it on an empty stomach. And besides, it’s been hours since his half eaten cheeseburger, and his body is beginning to protest the lack of food.

 

“Very well.”

 

Cas pushes himself off of the bed and goes to the chair by the door, bringing back two bags that smell delicious, and two cups of coffee. He places one bag on Dean’s table, along with a cup of coffee, and goes around to give the others to Sam, before returning to his chair by the door.

 

Dean gently lifts himself out of bed, wincing slightly as his back responds painfully to the movement, and sits down at the table, opening his bag to see a fresh plate of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. He looks over at Sam’s table to see some mushy white monstrosity that is probably one of those weird egg-white omelettes his health conscious brother is always ordering. It is difficult to eat his food with his hands chained together, but he somehow manages it, only dipping his hand in the syrup once.

 

The food is delicious, cooked exactly the way he likes it, and the coffee is just as perfect. He hums his approval, forgetting their situation for a brief moment. As he polishes off the last bite and finishes the last gulp of coffee, Cas returns to his side to clean up the dishes. Dean looks up at him, green eyes meeting blue, and he has no problem uttering the required words this time.

 

“Thank you, Cas. That was amazing,” he smiles at the angel, hoping it will increase his odds of earning Cas’s favor and getting both him and Sam released.

 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Dean,” Cas responds with a small smile of his own, taking the remnants and returning to Sam’s side of the room.

 

“It really was very good. Thank you, Cas,” Sam agrees, mimicking Dean’s smile, helping to clean up his own mess, handing the bag and empty cup to the angel.

 

Sam also gets a small smile in return, as Cas takes their trash and heads for the door.

 

“I’ll be right back. I need to dispose of this, then I will help you to the bathroom, and then I will give you your reward.

 

As soon as the door is closed, Sam turns to Dean, his face serious.

 

“Dean, we have to remember to play along. If we do, he might release us and we can get out of here and find some help.”

 

“I know, Sam. I got it. I don’t want to give him any more reasons to punish us again any more than you do,” Dean rolls his shoulders experimentally, but stops with a grunt halfway through as the muscles in his back protest the movement, “Twice was enough for me.”

 

Dean looks down at his shoulder, at the handprint he hasn’t seen in years, the skin still burning slightly. He looks over at Sam again and chokes back his anger at seeing the same mark on his brother. Sam follows his eyes and looks up to meet his gaze, eyes filled with sadness.

 

“Dean, I’m so sorry. If I’d known…”

 

“Don’t sweat it, Sammy. There’s no way you could have known he’d take it that way. You were just trying to get through to him. We both were. We can’t keep blaming ourselves for the messed up stuff he does. That’s part of the mind games right?” When Sam nods hesitantly, Dean continues, “Right. So for now, we play along until we find an opening, and then we take it and get the hell out of dodge.”

 

The door opens before Sam can respond, and Cas returns, holding a small black box in his hand, which he sets on the chair by the door.

 

“I’m sure you both need to use the restroom. I will not invade your privacy, but the cuffs will remain on. If either of you try and escape, I will have to punish you again, and I really don’t want to have to do that,” Cas says patiently, but with a hint of steel beneath the gravel of his voice.

 

Sam and Dean both nod their agreement, and Cas goes over to Sam, releasing him from the chain attached to the bed. He takes Sam out of the room, locking the door behind him, and leads him into one of the unused bathrooms in the bunker. There is nothing but a sink and a toilet in the room, so Sam knows instantly that he won’t be able to find anything that could be used as a makeshift weapon or lockpick. Cas keeps to his word and gives the younger brother his privacy while he takes care of business, then leads him back to the bedroom, reattaches him to the chain on the bed, and takes Dean out to do the same.

 

Once they are all back in the bedroom, with Dean and Sam once again chained to the headboard, Cas approaches Sam again, reaching for the taller man’s sleep pants. Sam flinches back for a second before catching Dean’s eye and stilling, letting Cas help him out of the garment. Once Sam is only in his boxers, Cas takes the pants over to his chair and deposits them, before going over to Dean.

 

Dean closes his eyes and lets Cas remove his pants, embarrassment flushing his cheeks at being so exposed. He understands intellectually that clothing has no meaning to an angel, that they find the entire idea silly at best, but he also doesn’t relish the idea of trying to make an escape attempt in only his underwear. Once Dean’s pants have been added to the pile with Sam’s, Cas picks up the small black box, and begins removing his trench coat and suit.

 

A tiny tendril of fear worms its way into both brother’s minds as they remember watching Cas remove his outer garments just before administering their punishment the day before. But they calm themselves with several deep breaths. Cas has promised them a reward, and more pain would make for a lousy enticement into compliance. With his sleeves once again rolled up, Cas takes the box and turns to face the brothers.

 

“Sam, lay down on the bed facing your brother. Dean, you do the same. I’m going to reward you now. I know yesterday was a big change for you both, but I am pleased you handled it so well,” Cas opens the box and removes the object inside, closing his hand around it before either of them can see what it is.

 

Sam and Dean carefully lay back down on the bed, taking deep breaths and keeping their eyes locked together, reminding themselves that no matter what happens they are not alone.

 

The mattress dips slightly as Cas sits behind Dean on the bed. Cas takes ahold of the chain between the cuffs on Dean’s wrists and pushes his arms above his head.

 

“Keep your hands above your head, Dean. Do you understand?” Cas asks.

 

Dean nods his agreement with a short, shaky movement, the awkward positioning starting to make fear crawl across his exposed skin. The fear increases when Cas releases the chain and runs his hand down Dean’s chest, rubbing the same circles into his skin as he had his back. The touch is far more intimate than before, and Dean has to bite his lip to keep himself from moving to try and make Cas stop. Given the state of his back, Dean tries to convince himself it’s a weird parody of a massage that has gotten mixed up in Cas’s difficulty understanding human interactions.

 

When the hand slides lower and starts playing along the edge of the waistband of his boxers, Dean’s brain freezes and his eyes go wide with fear, as he realizes where Cas’s hand is heading. It takes his mind several seconds to process the new information, his mind screaming in denial of what is about to happen. When the hand goes even lower, sliding delicately over his groin, Dean bucks away from the contact, his hands lowering to try and stop Cas from continuing.

 

“Cas, stop!” He cries out, grabbing the angel’s hand in his own and pulling it away from him, his breath coming far too fast as his mind is overloaded with fear and panic. “I don’t… I don’t want that.” He manages to croak out around the lump in his throat.

 

Cas reaches around with his other hand and takes the chain around Dean’s wrists, moving them back up and out of the way effortlessly against Dean’s struggles, holding his hands prisoner above his head.

 

“You can’t lie to me, Dean,” Cas whispers softly in his ear, “I’ve heard you. Those nights alone in a motel room, bringing pleasure to yourself as your soul cried out for me in your mind. I could hear you,” Dean’s entire body flushes hot at Cas’s words, and he closes his eyes against the truth in them, “I went to you once, thinking you had called out to me for help. I hid in the shadows that night, watching you. I was entranced by it. And I waited. Waited so long for you to call for me, come to me with your wants, your needs… but you never did,” Cas brings his hand back to the front of Dean’s boxers and slowly rubs the bulge inside them, “You are afraid of your desire, ashamed by it. But there is no shame in love, in desire.”

 

“Please, Cas,” Dean pleads, hating the broken way his voice sounds as his cock starts to respond to Cas’s touch, “Please… don’t do this.”

 

“This is your reward Dean. I’m giving you what you want. What you’ve always wanted,” Dean shakes his head, not wanting any part of what the angel is offering, “Stop denying yourself, Dean. I love you. You’re safe.”

 

Sam closes his eyes as a tear rolls down his cheek. He can’t watch this. Can’t watch his brother being violated by the person he loves. He’s known for years that Dean has carried a torch for the angel, but he’s never acted on it. He couldn’t. Between the constant threats hanging over their heads, and Dean’s own stubborn pride, Sam knew it would take divine intervention for either of them to make any kind of move. But this… this is wrong. And he can’t watch it happen.

 

“Sam,” Cas says softly, making the younger brother flinch, “Open your eyes. Show your brother that his desire is nothing to be ashamed of.”

 

Sam knows he should do it, should play along, but this… this is more than he can bear. He shakes his head as another tear leaks out.

 

“Sam, are you ashamed of Dean?” Cas asks as he presses more firmly against the hardening length in Dean’s boxers, eliciting a whimper from the man beneath him.

 

“N-no,” Sam chokes out, his tears threatening to overwhelm him, “Cas, please. Please stop.”

 

“Open your eyes, Sam.”

 

There is a hardness in Cas’s voice now, and the bruises on Sam’s back are still too fresh, too real. He opens his eyes, knowing he will hate himself for the rest of eternity for doing so.

 

Dean’s face is wet with tears as he bites his lip against the noises that threaten to spill out of him. He looks into Sam’s eyes like a lifeline, hating that his brother is seeing him like this, wishing he was anywhere in the world but this bed, but also desperate to know that he isn’t facing this horror alone.

 

Cas stills his movements for a moment, reaching behind him to grab the item from the box. It is a small bottle of lube. Dean’s breath hitches when he sees it, terror gripping his chest anew. Cas flips open the lid one handed, squeezing a small amount into his palm. Then his hand returns to Dean’s cock, reaching into the front of his boxers and exposing his erection.

 

The cool air feels amazing on his oversensitive cock, and Dean hates his body for betraying him and responding to Cas’s touch. The angel’s hand wraps around his half-hard length and Dean can’t hold back the groan that escapes as pleasure threatens to overwhelm him. Cas slides his hand up the length of Dean’s cock, the slickness of the lube adding to the sensation.

 

In another time, another place, Dean would relish the feeling of Cas’s hands on him, bringing him pleasure. He would probably even enjoy the way his hands are being held above his head, pinned by a strength he could never match. But now, with his hands chained, his body sore from being beaten by his best friend, a man he has never even admitted to himself that he loves, his body’s response makes him feel sick, his breakfast rolling unpleasantly in his stomach. He wants to fight, to run from the violation, the perversion of a fantasy he never voiced, but Cas’s arms hold him fast. The only thing he can do is buck his hips into Cas’s hand, his body seeking release despite his mind screaming for it to stop.

 

Tears roll down his face as Dean feels himself nearing his climax. But just before his pleasure peaks, Cas’s hand stops, pulling away from him. Dean sobs out a whimper at the loss of contact, his hips pumping into the air momentarily seeking it out again. A hand strokes through his hair gently, shushing his protests.

 

“Patience, Dean. I know what you want. But this reward isn’t just for you, remember?” Cas whispers softly.

 

Eyes Dean hadn’t even realized he’d closed fly open in panic. He starts to shake as he looks at Sam laying across from him.

 

“No.. Cas, please…” Dean whimpers as he sees Sam’s eyes widen in fear, his breaths coming shallow at the angel’s words.

 

“I know how long you’ve wanted this, Dean, but I promised you both that I wouldn’t favor one of you over the other. And Sam was much better behaved yesterday. He deserves this reward as much as you do.” Cas informs him, running a hand along Dean’s exposed thigh.

 

Dean’s brain goes into overdrive. In the dark recesses of his mind, the parts he never shines a light on for fear of what he’ll find, he knows that a part of him has always desired the angel. But Sam… Sam has never felt that way. They’re friends. Family. And he knows that there is no part of Sam that desires Cas the way he does.

 

Realizing that the hand in his hair is the one that was holding down his arms, Dean grabs Cas’s hand again and looks up at the blue eyes above him, dark with constrained lust, and shoves his pride to the side, willing to do or say  _ anything _ to keep Cas from touching Sam.

 

“Please, Cas… don’t…” He swallows thickly around the bile rising in his throat, but pushes himself to continue, “I’ll admit it, I’ve… d-desired you for a long time. But Sam… he doesn’t. Please, Cas… don’t do this.” Dean can’t help the tears that continue to fall down his cheeks as he hopes against hope that, just this once, he can get through to the angel.

 

Cas removes his hand from Dean’s head and places it over the older brother’s chained wrists, but doesn’t pull them away.

 

“Dean, it’s okay. I love you. Both of you. And I know you love me. But you need to stop hiding from yourselves. From me. You need to open yourselves up and let yourselves be loved,” Cas lifts Dean’s wrists and places them, not above his head as Dean is expecting, but on the bed directly in front of Sam, “You are being very rude, refusing to share your reward with your brother, Dean. He deserves to be loved just as much as you do. So I am going to give you a choice,” Cas grabs the bottle of lube and lays it on the bed next to Dean’s restrained hands, “I will continue pleasuring you, but only if you do the same to Sam. If you refuse, I will chain your hands above your head, where you cannot reach yourself, and I will leave you there, untouched, while I give Sam his reward. And you will remain restrained there until you are willing to accept my love for you.”

 

It’s an impossible choice, and Dean’s mind stops working completely. He looks down at his hands as fear, and pain, and sorrow overwhelm him. Either he submits, and violates his own brother, the man he raised from infancy, or he refuses, and watches helplessly as Cas violates Sam, then leaves him alone until he submits anyway. Dean contemplates whipping his hands around and bashing them into Cas’s face. He would welcome the pain of punishment instead of this sick parody of love. But Cas would only punish him, and Sam would still be given his “reward.”

 

Dean looks over at Sam, meeting his eyes, seeing the fear in them that matches his own. Trembling, Sam reaches out his hands and places them over Dean’s, making Dean’s choice for him. There are tears rolling down Sam’s face as well, and Dean can see the plea in his brother’s eyes. There is no way out, no way to stop what is going to happen. And knowing that, Sam would rather it come from Dean. Dean closes his eyes and nods almost imperceptibly.

 

“I’ll do it.” He whispers, self-loathing threatening to consume him as he speaks the words, “I’ll do it.”

 

Cas kisses Dean’s cheek gently, petting a hand through his hair again.

 

“Good, Dean,” Cas’s gravelly whisper making the bile rise in Dean’s throat again, “I knew you’d make the right choice,” Cas removes his hand and faces Sam, “Keep your hands above your head Sam. Let your brother show you how much he loves you.”

 

Shakily, Sam raises his hands above his head, his eyes focusing on some point in space above Dean’s head. With a deep, tear-filled breath, Dean opens his eyes and reaches forward hesitantly until his fingers brush the front of Sam’s boxers. His hands freeze, trembling. Cas lays his hand over them, and squeezes slightly.

 

“It’s alright, Dean. There is no shame in love.”

 

The words that are meant to comfort instead drive stakes of pain through Dean’s heart. Hating himself, and swearing vengeance on whatever being has forced them into this twisted situation, Dean reaches a hand inside Sam’s boxers, and pulls out his brother’s cock.

 

It’s heavy in his hand, and larger than he remembers. They’ve spent their lives living out of motel rooms or the Impala, but since they’d both hit puberty, they’d always made sure to give each other privacy. A few towels had slipped on occasion, when one of them was fresh from the shower, but they’d always looked away immediately. Even the accidental violation of sight a taboo line in the sand neither of them was willing to cross.

 

Cas flips open the lid of the bottle of lube, squeezing a small amount into Dean’s hands. Nausea builds in Dean’s stomach as he begins to move his hands. It takes him a moment to fight against his own mind, fight back against the bitter hatred of being forced to do this to his own brother, the one person he swore he would always protect. Once he has his emotions under control, he lets his hands move on their own, forcing himself to pretend it’s his own cock he’s pleasuring instead of Sam’s.

 

He knows what feels good. He twists his hand slightly on each up stroke, feeling Sam begin to harden in his hand, trying to ignore the moans he knows Sam is trying to stifle. He uses one hand to stroke the shaft, using the other to rub circles around Sam’s slit. As much as he hates what he’s being forced to do, Dean wants it to end quickly, so he does everything he knows how to do to bring his brother to completion.

 

When Sam’s restrained moans turn to breathy whimpers, Dean starts to pick up the pace. He flinches suddenly as Cas returns his hand to Dean’s own cock, which has flagged some as Dean’s desire waned when he was forced to pleasure Sam. But Cas’s hand is just as skilled as Dean’s, and the older brother’s erection is hard and leaking again in no time.

 

The room is filled with quiet whimpers and choked back moans as Dean and Sam near their climax. Dean can tell Sam is close from the way his breathing speeds up, and Dean knows he won’t be far behind. Just before they both peak, Cas whispers softly above them.

 

“I love you. Let go.”

 

And they do. Sparks dance behind the brothers’ eyes as their pleasure consumes them, painting the sheets with white ropes in front of them. As their bodies come down from the high of their intense orgasms, Cas rubs a hand down each of their thighs.

 

“You did well. I’m so proud of you both. You see? Love is so much better than punishment. So long as you are both obedient, I’ll reward you every day,” Cas stands and goes to the door, “You two rest for a moment. I know that was intense for both of you. I’m going to go get the showers ready. We could all do with some cleaning up.”

 

Once Cas is gone and the door locked behind him, Dean curls into a ball around himself, sobbing into his hands.

 

“Sammy… Sammy I’m so sorry…”

 

“Dean…” Sam places a hand on his brother’s shoulder, leaning in to rest his head against Dean’s, “Dean, it’s not your fault. We can’t let him…”

 

“I can’t do this, Sam. I can’t.” Dean cries, lifting his head to meet his brother’s eyes, “The pain I could handle. But this… this is too much. I can’t…” He buries his face back in his hands again, wanting nothing more than to wake up from the nightmare his life has become in the last twenty four hours.

 

Sam runs a comforting hand down Dean’s arm, his own emotions overflowing as he thinks the same thing.

 

“I know, Dean. I know.”

 

Sam wishes he knew what to say, what to do to make his brother’s pain go away, to make the entire perverted situation end. But he doesn’t. And he knows it’s only going to get worse. He thinks back to his conversation with Dean the night before. They had promised each other they would hold out as long as possible to try and fix whatever has happened to Cas. Three weeks, they thought. Now, as Sam looks down at his brother, curled in the fetal position after being forced to violate his brother, Sam secretly thinks they’ll be lucky if they last for one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, if you're still here, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I tried to make it obvious, but the bold was Naomi, and the italics was Cas. I hope that came through.
> 
> Leave me a kudo and a comment to let me know what you thought!


	4. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't seen it yet, go back to chapter one and check out the awesome cover art that my friend suitsflash made!! It's amazing!!
> 
> No specific warnings for this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

Sam has never talked about it with anyone. He’s barely allowed his own mind to dwell on it for longer than a few seconds. But his nightmares remind him of it far too often, and he wakes in the dead of night, drenched in sweat, the phantom feeling of icy fingers dancing over his flesh.

 

_ I know you want this… crave this. Just give in, Sammy. _

 

There had been nowhere to run, no place for him to hide from the assault on his mind and body. Every touch had been agonizing bliss; pleasure forced upon him as he had been torn apart from the inside.

 

_ You’re so hot. So tight. _

 

He’d made every time as painful and horrific as the first; healing him, restoring him, never letting him grow accustomed to the intrusion. And he’d made him respond. Made him enjoy each and every violation. Relishing in his pain and humiliation, and keeping him right on the edge for days, until he was sobbing, pleading, going mad with the need for release.

 

_ Look at you. So desperate and wanton for me. My perfect little bitch. _

 

And when he would finally stop… the pain would return. Excruciating torment that would go on for days, weeks, months, until Sam was begging for the pleasure, promising  _ anything _ to bring an end to his suffering.

 

Sam looks down at Dean, pushing down his memories of the cage. His brother’s tears have stopped, and Dean is staring vacantly at the blankets, his breathing shallow, but even. Survival tells them to play along, to give Cas what he wants. But now, knowing the extent of those wants… giving in is no longer an option. Not if they want to survive with enough sanity left to fix their friend and salvage their relationship with him.

 

So with a gentle shake, Sam rouses Dean and makes his brother look at him. Dean’s normally bright green eyes are listless and unfocused when he raises his face to meet Sam’s gaze. It pulls at Sam’s heart to see such defeat in Dean’s eyes, but he hides his pain beneath a practiced mask of bravery. Dean has never dealt with this sort of trauma before, and Sam knows it will be up to him to keep his brother grounded.

 

“Dean, we have to try and escape.” Sam says with as much conviction as he can muster.

 

“Escape?” Dean asks, confusion bringing him out of his stupor, “You said we had to play along. That it was…”

 

“Screw playing along!” Sam retorts in a fervent whisper, the vehemence behind his words enough to startle Dean fully back to himself, “His guard is down. He thinks we’re cooperating. This is the best chance we’re going to get. So we have to make our move now, before...” Sam lets his voice trail off, unable to finish the thought.

 

But Dean doesn’t need Sam to finish it. He understands clearly what his brother means. If they don’t do something, and soon, they might not be able to. Dean closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath, then nods.

 

“Right. Okay. What’s the plan?”

 

“He said he’s getting a shower ready, right?” Sam starts, keeping his voice low and his eyes on the door, “We cooperate until it’s over. I don’t know if he plans on doing anything in the shower, but it seems like he’s done… ‘rewarding’ us for now,” His voice cracks a bit on the word, but he soldiers through it, knowing they don’t have a lot of time, “Hopefully he’ll give us at least our pants back after the shower. But even if we only have boxers, we still have to go for it. There should be some extra clothes in the Impala,” Dean nods in affirmation, and Sam continues, “As soon as we have clothes, we wait until he isn’t holding onto us, or until he’s only holding one of us. If we time it right, a single blow to the back of the head should knock him out for at least a few minutes, so long as we don’t hold back. We can use the cuffs to our advantage. Where are the spare keys to the Impala?”

 

“In the garage,” Dean answers without hesitation, “But that’s assuming we can even  _ get _ to the garage. He’s been pretty anal about locking all the doors. And what’s to stop him from coming after us?”

 

Sam pauses for a moment. Dean’s points are valid. It might take them longer than a few minutes to find the key to the bunker door if Cas has locked it, which is highly likely, and they need to make sure the angel can’t follow them. And they need to ensure he’ll still be at the bunker when they return with help.

 

“There’s a bottle of holy oil in the armory,” Sam suggests, “We lay a circle down, and light it when he comes looking for us. So once he’s knocked out, you head for the garage, and I’ll grab the oil and a lighter.”

 

Dean meets his brother’s eyes and takes strength from the determination he sees in them. It’s a solid plan, but Dean can’t help the current of fear that runs through him.

 

“Sam,” He starts, his voice low and hoarse, “If this doesn’t work… if he catches us…”

 

Sam sits up, pulling Dean up with him, and puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

 

“It’ll work Dean. Even if we can’t find the key, he’s still an angel. Holy oil will hold him.” Sam assures him, holding Dean’s eyes until he gets a nod from his brother. “We can do this, Dean.”

 

They hear the key turn in the door lock, and Sam drops his hands into his lap, trying to look as passive as possible, Dean doing the same beside him. Cas opens the door and looks at them both for a moment. Fear begins to rise in Dean’s chest. Castiel may not be as powerful as he was when they first met him, but his hearing is still much better than the average human. Dean’s mind begins to race, worried that Castiel has overheard their plan and will drag them both back to the dungeon to punish them again for planning an escape.

 

“We should begin our search after we shower,” Cas says suddenly, interrupting Dean’s panicked thoughts, “We must find Kelly before the Nephilim is born. And even with Lucifer in the cage, the demons will still be looking for her. They must not get to her before us. The child is far too dangerous.”

 

“R-right,” Sam nods, thrown slightly off-balance by the almost normal conversation, “She’s just a human. We know where she was two months ago. I can dig into traffic cam footage, see if I can find where she…”

 

“I cannot allow you to use a computer, Sam,” Cas says with regret in his voice, “I want to believe I can trust you, but I’m not sure that I can.”

 

“Oh,” Sam’s voice falls flat, and he looks down at the chains around his wrists, “I guess I can walk you through it instead,” He offers, “I already have a program set up, so it shouldn’t be that difficult.”

 

Cas tilts his head for a moment, considering the idea.

 

“That should be acceptable,” He decides, nodding at the younger brother before heading over to Sam’s side of the bed, “But first we should shower. I have finished gathering what we need.”

 

Cas unhooks Sam’s wrists from the chain, then leads him around to the other side and releases Dean. He takes them down the hallway to one of the many large shower rooms, though not the one they normally use.

 

A small table has been set up in one corner of the room, and Dean and Sam are both relieved to see a neatly folded set of boxers and jeans for both of them. Once they are inside, Cas closes and locks the door behind them, slipping the keys into his pants pocket. He takes the brothers over to the opposite side of the room from the table, then reaches for Dean’s boxers. Dean looks up at Sam, comforted by the tiny nod Sam gives him as Cas helps the older brother out of his underwear. Despite the intimate nature of the morning’s events, during which he had been practically naked, Dean still covers himself in embarrassment at the loss of the garment. Logically, he knows the flimsy fabric of his boxers offered him no real protection, but he feels ten times more vulnerable without them. Once Cas has helped Sam out of his own boxers, he gives both of them the warning look, holding it for a few extra seconds after the brothers nod their understanding. Then he goes over to the table and sets the boxers down before beginning to remove his own clothes.

 

Dean can’t help but watch as the angel strips. In those dark corners of his mind that his conscious self refuses to acknowledge, he’d sometimes thought about what Cas looked like under all those layers he insisted upon wearing. When he’d taken Cas to the brothel all those years ago, after learning that the angel was a virgin, he had quickly smothered the small flare of jealousy he had felt as Chastity had taken Cas into one of the back rooms. As Cas finishes removing his own pair of pure white boxers, Dean bites down hard on the inside of his cheek, and closes his eyes against the sight in front of him, his traitorous body threatening arousal despite the fact that he is cuffed and naked, held captive by the very object of his desire.

 

Cas picks up several washcloths and a small basket of items from the table, bringing them over to the brothers, setting the basket on the tile floor. He turns on one of the faucets, careful not to let the water hit any of them until he has finished adjusting the temperature. Taking Sam by the elbow, he leads the younger brother under the warm spray.

 

It burns momentarily as the water beats down on his bruised back, and Sam inhales sharply at the pain. But after a moment to let his body adjust, the warmth and pressure of the water feels almost like a massage, easing the pain from his sore muscles. Cas dampens a washcloth in the stream of water, then takes a bottle of body wash from the basket and pours a generous amount onto it. He turns to Dean.

 

“Can I trust you to wait patiently, or do I need to restrain you while I help Sam?” Cas asks, pointedly looking at the metal bar that sits at waist height and runs around the entire perimeter of the room, before bringing his eyes back to meet Dean’s.

 

“Y-you can trust me, Cas.” Dean assures him, hoping Cas will mistake the tremor in his voice for nerves.

 

Cas reaches out a hand and cups Dean’s cheek gently.

 

“Good. I would hate to have to punish you again so soon after your reward.” Cas turns back to Sam as Dean curls into himself at the mention of their reward.

 

Cas’s hand is gentle as he rubs the soapy cloth over Sam’s skin, and Sam has to stop himself from leaning into the touch. The angel carefully cleans Sam’s injured back and shoulder before moving around in front of him to his chest.

 

“Tell me, Sam,” Cas starts as he lifts the younger brother’s arms and rubs the cloth along them, “Did you enjoy your reward?”

 

A sudden bolt of panic hits Sam in the chest as he realizes that, not only did neither of them give Cas the now required “thank you” after they had finished, but they also hadn’t reciprocated their reward. He looks down at Cas’s groin, his breath coming quicker as he realizes the angel’s cock is beginning to harden. Swallowing thickly, Sam resolves himself to make sure that no matter what reciprocation Cas demands, he convinces the angel to take it only from him. Dean has suffered through enough trauma for one day, and Sam is still holding out hope that their relationship with Cas can be mended once this nightmare is over. But that hope can only last so long as no more lines are crossed between Cas and Dean.

 

“Y-yes. Thank you, Cas.” Sam forces out, unable to take his eyes from Cas’s growing erection, and determined not to look at Dean.

 

Cas watches him curiously for a moment, his hand stilling as he follows Sam’s line of sight. Then he reaches out the hand not currently holding the washcloth, and lifts Sam’s face to meet his eyes.

 

“Sam,” Cas says patiently, his eyes kind, “Your reward was for you and Dean alone. I wanted to show you that even though I had to punish you for your actions, my love for you has not changed,” The hand under Sam’s chin turns to softly cup and caress his cheek, “I know that you return that love. I do not require physical assurance. My own gratification can wait,” A strange haze clouds Cas’s eyes, and he tilts his head in thought for a moment before continuing, “Or perhaps it is gratitude which has prompted your offer. Words are not the only method of conveying one’s appreciation to another,” Cas muses. He starts slightly, his focus shifting when Dean coughs and hugs his arms to his chest, shivering in the cool air of the bathroom. The haze clears from Cas’s eyes and he resumes washing Sam’s arms, “I apologize, Dean. I forget sometimes that humans are susceptible to temperature. Please be patient. I will help you wash as soon as I am finished helping Sam.”

 

Of all the times in his life that Dean has saved him from some horrific fate, Sam has never been more grateful to his brother than this very moment. He briefly turns his head to look at Dean and blinks his eyes slowly in a silent “thank you.” Dean nods jerkily in response, his shaking not entirely from the chilly air.

 

Finished with Sam’s upper body, Cas kneels and begins washing Sam’s legs. He taps each foot in turn, letting Sam use his shoulder to keep his balance. Sam closes his eyes in embarrassment when Cas tells him to spread his legs, but he does so without protest, standing as still as possible, hardly daring to breathe as Cas rubs the soapy cloth between his legs and around his groin. Gratefully, the touch to his sensitive areas is brief, and Cas stands as soon as he is finished. He goes over to where the basket sits on the floor and drops the washcloth beside it, picking up the other two bottles.

 

“You can rinse off now, Sam,” Cas says, turning to Dean, “I am very proud of you for waiting so patiently, Dean. Come here and step under the water with Sam. You need to get your hair wet so I can wash it.”

 

Dean moves hesitantly under the spray, his proximity to Sam making him suddenly very aware of how naked they both are. They manage to maneuver around each other under the water, only bumping shoulders a few times. Once Sam has rinsed off, and Dean’s hair is suitably wet, Cas pops the lid of the shampoo bottle and pours some into his hand.

 

“Kneel over here, out of the water,” Cas instructs them, indicating the floor in front of him.

 

Sam gently nudges Dean’s shoulder, masking the comforting touch by making it look like an accident. Dean takes a deep breath and kneels in front of Cas, tilting his head down and gluing his eyes to the floor. Cas lathers his hands with shampoo and begins rubbing it through Dean’s short hair.

 

Dean bites his lip as Cas washes his hair. The angel’s touch feels  _ amazing _ , and it’s all he can do to keep from moaning at how good it feels. He closes his eyes and leans into Cas’s hands, letting his head move freely as Cas massages the sweet smelling soap into his hair, the entire situation forgotten as Dean simply relaxes and basks in the pleasurable sensation. It is over far too quickly, and Dean barely manages to stop the whimper that tries to escape when Cas pulls his hands away, directing Dean to stand and go rinse under the water as he turns to Sam. 

 

Reluctantly, Dean does. He takes the moment to try and clear his head, reminding himself that they have to escape and find a way to fix Cas as he lets the warm water run over him. Sam soon joins him under the spray. He gives Dean a small questioning look. Dean answers with the barest hint of a nod as he steps to the side to let Sam rinse his hair. When they are both finished, Cas has them kneel again and rubs in the conditioner. Then he helps Dean to his feet, leading him back under the water before grabbing a second washcloth and the body soap once more. He turns to Sam, who is still kneeling on the floor.

 

“Sam,” He starts, his voice and expression hardening slightly.

 

“You can trust me, Cas,” Sam assures him before the angel can finish asking the question.

 

Cas is startled by the sudden answer, but accepts it with a nod after a moment. He wets the washcloth and puts soap on it. Dean sets his shoulders and firms his stance, trying to empty his mind. But his attempt at calm is shattered when he feels the touch of the cloth to his back. It aches at first, but soon the gentle touch is sending chills down Dean’s spine. His body betrays him as he begins to lean into Cas’s touch once more.

 

It’s a cruel parody of a life that could have been, and Dean hates himself for enjoying it. In the back of his mind, he knows he should be more focused, readying himself for their escape once this is over, but the soft hand on his skin is something he has wanted so badly, and for so long, that it’s hard not to simply lose himself in it. When Cas kneels to continue washing him, Dean has to close his eyes and tighten the muscles in his back, giving his mind a painful reminder of what Cas has done in order to keep himself from becoming aroused.

 

As Cas stands, finally finished washing Dean, the older brother thinks he sees sadness in Cas’s eyes before he’s told to rinse his body, and the conditioner from his hair. Cas washes himself while Dean does, and steps under the water to rinse with Dean, reaching up to make sure all of the conditioner is out of his hair. The closeness threatens to overwhelm Dean, but it is short lived. Satisfied, Cas calls Sam over to rinse his hair, and Dean steps out of the warm water to wait. With Sam’s hair rinsed, and Cas’s hair washed as well, Cas turns the shower head off and takes the basket and used towels over to the table.

 

“Come over and dry off,” Cas says, holding up two towels, “I am very pleased with both of you. You did very well. After we’ve done some searching, I’ll go out and get us some lunch.

 

“Thank you, Cas,” Sam says, giving Dean a brief look before going over to Cas and taking one of the towels.

 

Dean follows, taking a towel and mumbling his thanks as well, rubbing the towel over his face briskly to try and hide his flushing cheeks.

 

Cas dries and dresses quickly, then helps the brothers finish drying off and dress in the boxers and jeans that have been laid out for them. Dean’s heart begins to race as Cas grabs onto them and starts leading them to the door. He shuffles both chains into one hand temporarily while he unlocks the door, and Sam looks at Dean, his eyes resolute. Dean nods, and waiting until the door is open, he takes a deep breath, and  _ yanks _ on the hand holding them.

 

Unprepared, Cas releases their cuffs, turning to look at Dean, eyes angry. He reaches out to grab Dean once again, but Sam swings down, his cuffed hands catching Cas right in the back of the head, dropping the angel to the floor, unconscious. Dean stares as the small trickle of blood that drips down the back of Cas’s head, the red startling against the pale tile of the bathroom.

 

“Dean!” Sam’s yell brings him back to reality, and Dean grabs the keys from Cas’s limp hand, heading out the door after his brother.

 

They head straight out of the bathroom, not bothering to talk. They don’t know how long Cas will be out for, and they have to make sure their trap is laid before he finds them. They split up when they reach the garage exit, and Dean heads over to the door with the keys while Sam goes the few doors further to the armory.

 

The sigils Cas had insisted upon adding to the bunkers warding glow faintly as Dean reaches out to grab the door handle. He jerks his hand back immediately when the handle burns him. He looks up at the door, understanding crossing his features when the sigils flash briefly, then dim again.

 

“God dammit, Cas,” Dean mutters under his breath, finding the largest of the keys on the ring in his hand. He uses the edge of the key to try and scratch away the lines in the sigil, but in only a few seconds, the key in his hand begins to heat up, burning him until he finally drops the whole ring, “Shit!”

 

“What’s wrong?” Sam asks as he enters the little hallway.

 

“Damn sigils Cas put on the door. They burn anything that touches them. I can’t get the door open,” Dean informs his brother, looking down at Sam’s hands to find them empty, “Where’s the holy oil?” There is fear in Dean’s voice at the absence of their plan B.

 

“Gone,” Sam says, his own panic just as evident.

 

”What do you mean gone?” Dean practically yells.

 

“I mean gone, Dean,” Sam shouts back, just as terrified as his brother.

 

“Well, where the hell is it?” Dean asks, desperate.

 

“I took it,” a gravelly voice says from behind them. Sam and Dean swivel to face the angel, their breaths coming shallow in fear. The bottle of oil hangs from Cas’s hand, his eyes heartbroken as he looks at the brothers, “I had thought you might attempt to leave again. But I did not think it would be so soon. So I hid the oil from you after I prepared the bathroom.”

 

“So you knew that we…” Dean starts quietly.

 

“Yes, Dean. I am a celestial being. I heard you,” Cas says sadly.

 

“But if you knew… then why…” Sam’s voice is confused as he looks at Cas.

 

“I hoped…” Cas sighs heavily, “I hoped you would reconsider. See how much I love you and understand,” He closes his eyes for a brief second as though drawing strength, “But instead… instead you are leaving me behind again.”

 

“Cas,” Sam says gently, hoping that this opportunity might allow them to get through to the angel, “We aren’t leaving you behind. You need help. We’re trying to leave to find someone who can help you.”

 

“Exactly,” Dean chimes in, “Look man… this isn’t you. Something happened that made you like this. And we need to fix it.”

 

“You think I’m broken. Useless,” Cas hangs his head, gripping the bottle in his hand, “That’s why you are leaving.”

 

“No, Cas that’s not true,” Sam starts, catching Dean’s eye and glancing at the holy oil. Dean nods, “You’re not useless. And you’re not broken. But something obviously isn’t right. You would never do this sort of thing to us. That’s not you.”

 

“Cas,” Dean slowly starts walking towards the angel, holding his cuffed hands up to show that he isn’t going to try and hurt him, “You’re family. We need you,” Sam follows his lead, moving quietly around to the side, “But something messed with your head. All we’re trying to do is fix it. Find you some help.”

 

They are almost to Cas when his shoulders slump in defeat, his grip on the oil loosening.

 

“I see .It seems I was wrong in my initial assessment of the situation,” Cas says, and Dean and Sam pause hopefully, thinking he’s finally realized there’s a problem. But just as Sam is about to reach for the holy oil, Cas’s head raises, and his cold, vacant blue eyes stare out at them, “It is far worse than I thought. I see that now. I won’t make that mistake again.”

 

Spinning, Cas lays two fingers on Sam’s forehead before the younger brother can grab the jar, sending him crumpling to the floor. Cas turns to Dean, who has enough time for his mind to scream in denial before Cas touches him and the world goes dark.

 

***

 

He’s cold. His entire body shivers as he slowly blinks away the haze from being knocked out by angel grace for the second time in as many days. Metal clinks as he moves, and Sam opens his eyes to see his cuffed hands attached to a chain. He follows the chain to the bolt in the wall. A quick glance around the room shows him that both he and Dean are back in the dungeon. Dean is lying on the cement floor on the opposite side of the room. His hands are also attached to a chain in the wall, and his jeans have been removed, leaving him in only his boxers. Sam looks down at himself to see that his jeans are also missing.

 

Dean starts to stir, shaking his head slightly to clear the fog from his brain. He looks around the room until his eyes settle on his brother, his fear obvious. Before Sam can say anything to him, Cas speaks from the shadows by the door.

 

“I was far too lenient with you before. I see that now,” Cas’s voice is low and unwavering, his head bowed, “You have always been disrespectful. Disobedient. You have always done whatever you pleased without any thought for the people you might hurt. I thought this was because you were lost, that you simply needed someone to guide you, teach you. Someone to show you that you are not alone. That you are loved,” He sighs, “But you have rejected my teachings. Rejected my love for you.”

 

“You call what you did love?” Dean asks incredulously, “That wasn’t love Cas! You beat us! You violated us! And you made me…” Dean chokes on the words, unable to voice what happened. He takes a deep, shuttering breath, “That’s not love, Cas.”

 

Silence fills the air for a moment, before Cas looks up. When he does, Sam and Dean freeze, their blood turning to ice as fear consumes them. Castiel’s eyes are glowing blue, alight with his grace and emotions.

 

“I love you, Sam and Dean. I will never stop loving you,” Cas says as though he hasn’t heard what Dean said. His voice is low, but clear, anger and sadness laced in his words, “That has not changed. Even after you have left this world and your souls rest in Heaven, I will still love you. I will still be by your side. And it is because of that love that I cannot watch you continue to destroy yourselves. I warned you what would happen if you did not show me respect. But how can I expect you to respect me when all you see me as is a broken, useless, fallen and powerless angel?” Cas stands, grabbing an old paint bucket in each hand and setting one near both of them, “I tried to be understanding. I tried to be gentle with you. Tried to make this easier. But that was a mistake. I do not want to hurt you, but you have given me no other choice. I am your angel. You are my responsibility.  _ You belong to me _ . And I  _ will _ make you understand that.” He turns to the door, picking up his angel blade from the equipment table as he passes, “I need to go. I have received a distress call from a former friend and I need to see if he is still alive. I have given you enough food and water to last until I return. I hope by then, that you will have learned your lesson. But if you continue to fight me, you will only continue making things harder on yourselves.” Cas says with a note of finality as he opens the door to the dungeon.

 

“Cas wait!” Dean calls after him, pulling against his chains, “Don’t do this!”

 

“You can’t go alone! What if it’s a trap! Cas, think about this!” Sam echoes.

 

“I am not so powerless as you think, Sam. I am merely going to gather information. I will be back in a few days.”

 

“A few  _ days _ ?” Dean nearly shouts, “You can't be serious! Cas, come on!”

 

“I believe the two of you need some time to think on your actions. To consider the consequences of your disobedience. I will administer your punishment when I return.”

 

Cas flips off the lights and leaves, closing the door behind him, and leaving the brothers alone in complete darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you are all still enjoying it!
> 
> Leave me a kudo and a comment to let me know! I love hearing from you guys!


	5. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it took a while, but here it is! (My daughter has been having nightmares and sleeping in my bed with me. And it is impossible to write torture with a 12 year old next to you. Even if she is smart enough to know not to look at Mom's computer and I give her my tablet to play games on.)
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of rape, torture
> 
> Enjoy!

Special Thanks to [suitsflash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bikeross/pseuds/suitsflash) for the amazing cover art for this chapter!!!

(Song is Love The Way You Lie Pt.2 by Rhianna)

 

“Cas!” Dean shouts at the closed door, a small strip of light from the hallway barely visible from beneath the bookshelves, “Get your feathery ass back here you bastard!”

 

Ignoring his brother’s yelling, Sam moves down as far as the chain will allow until he can reach the bucket Cas set near his feet. He pulls it close and examines its contents by touch, the small streak of light from the door doing nothing to illuminate their surroundings. He finds several bottles of what he assumes to be water, and two boxes that rattle when he shakes them. Unable to see, he can only assume they are some form of cracker by the sound. Taking the water and crackers out of the bucket, he sets them up near his head, putting the bucket back where it was. Dean is still yelling at Cas to come back, to let them go, and Sam’s head is beginning to hurt from the noise.

 

“Dean, give it a rest,” Sam says tiredly, “He’s not coming back. You’re just wasting your energy. And considering how little he left us, we’re going to need it.”

 

Sam can’t see Dean, but he’s known his brother long enough to know that Dean is glaring at him in the darkness.

 

“That little bastard chains us up in the dark, leaves for an extended angel reunion that he may or may not come back from, and you want me to... what? Settle down and accept my fate like a good little prisoner?” Dean’s voice is angry, though Sam can still hear the fear underneath, but at least he’s no longer yelling.

 

“Of course not,” Sam sighs, “But shouting at the door isn’t going to help us figure out a way out of this.”

 

“A way out? There is no way out, Sam!” Dean snaps, “Even assuming we could get out of these chains, which we can’t, and somehow manage to unlock the door, which we can’t, we have no holy oil, and those weird ass sigils are keeping us from being able to leave the bunker. Which also probably means any help we called, assuming we can even  _ find _ a phone  _ and _ someone willing to go up against a psycho angel, wouldn’t even be able to get in. So tell me, Sam. Did I miss something, or have you got a set of lockpicks and an extra jar of holy oil hidden away in your boxers?”

 

Dean’s right, and Sam knows it. But he’s also not willing to give up. Not yet.

 

“I know it seems hopeless right now, but we can’t give up, Dean,” Sam implores his brother, “We have to keep fighting. That isn’t Cas. And if things were reversed, you know he would never give up on us. There has to be some way we can…”

 

“Why are you being so calm about this?” Dean asks suddenly, startling Sam, “After what… after what just happened… what I did to you… how can you just sit there and act like nothing happened?”

 

“Dean, you didn’t have a choice,” Sam tries to reassure him.

 

“Didn’t have a choice?” Dean retorts, his voice breaking slightly, “He literally gave me one, Sam. And I chose to rape my own brother.”

 

“Dean…”

 

“I should have clocked him right there. I should have never let him…” Dean closes his eyes against the memory of holding his brother in his hands; violating him, “But I didn’t. I didn’t even try to fight him. And I got off, Sammy. I raped you, and I got off while I did it.” There are tears in Dean’s eyes, threatening to spill over, his stomach rolling with self-hatred, “You should be furious. You should be so angry you can’t see straight. But you’re not. You’re just sitting there, acting like nothing happened, telling me we have to keep fighting.  And I wanna know why. Cause you’re acting like…” Dean pauses for a brief second before he continues, his voice low and panicked, ”You’re acting the same way you did when you didn’t have your soul. And it’s starting to scare me, Sammy.”

 

Sam sits in silence for a long moment as he thinks about what Dean’s said, and how he should respond. He’s kept his memories of the cage buried, not wanting to add to his brother’s worries over him. And even though it’s been years… the pain is still fresh in his mind. It’s a barely healed scab he’s not sure he wants to rip open. But he can hear the pain and fear in Dean’s voice, and, given the situation, it might actually help both of them to talk about it.

 

“It’s not that I’m not angry, Dean. I am,” Sam starts, voice soft and stilted, “And I’m just as scared as you are. I don’t know how to fix Cas or how to convince him let us go. And I’m terrified of what will happen to us if we don’t. If we can’t. But as horrible as the torture you experience in Hell was, you’ve never dealt with anything even close to something like this,” He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, “I have.”

 

“What do you mean you have?” Dean asks quietly, dreading the answer.

 

“I mean I’ve been… this has happened to me before.” Sam confesses, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

 

“Sam, I…” Dean whispers brokenly, “W-when?”

 

“In the cage. With Lucifer.” Sam’s answer is short and harsh, and he can feel the anger in him rising. He tamps down on it firmly, and continues, “He didn’t just torture me. He… he raped me,” Sam takes a deep breath, digging his nails into his palms to try and calm his shaking, “He made me enjoy it, every time. And he made me… he made me beg for it. And if I didn’t, then he’d start torturing me again until I did.” Sam closes his eyes and leans his head against the cool stone wall behind him, the feeling grounding him as he remembers, “At first, it was just him. But when that stopped being fun, he made himself look like other people. Just random demons and angels at first. Then he became Azazel. That was his favorite for awhile. And when he got tired of that, he moved on to people I knew. People I loved. Jess, Joe, Ellen, Ash, Garth, Bobby, Mom, Dad, even Cas,” Another pained and shaky breath, “And you,” He hears Dean’s sharp intake of breath, but he ignores it, determined to finish now that he’s started.

 

“But that time… it was different. He didn’t hurt me. He didn’t even touch me. For months, he looked like you… acted like you. We drove around in the Impala and went on hunts. We ate at crappy diners and slept in crappier motels. At first, I knew it was an illusion, that it couldn’t be real. But after a while… I was so tired of hurting… and I missed you and those days when it was just us on the road, singing along to the same old worn out cassettes while we drove to the next case. I wanted it to be real so bad… that I started to believe it was. It went on like that for over a year. I started to forget about the cage; about angels, and demons, and the apocalypse. And then… and then I woke up in Bobby’s panic room, chained to the floor with a collar around my neck. Y-you were sitting in the corner, sharpening a knife,” Sam’s voice begins to tremble as he speaks, his mind lost in the memory, “You called me a monster. Told me I was an abomination and that I had to be destroyed. I told you that I was done with demon blood, that I was clean. But you told me it wasn’t just the demon blood. It was everything. Leaving you and Dad, Ruby, the fact that my idea of Heaven was anywhere you and Dad weren’t, all the lying… hiding under the bed or behind the couch when Dad got drunk and hit you, knowing it was really me who made the mistakes you were getting punished for… my existence being the reason Mom died… everything. I begged, I  _ pleaded _ with you not to hurt me, not to kill me. And you told me that because we were family, you’d let me live… but only if…” Sam swallows audibly as the words threaten to choke him, “If I became your bitch.” The tears begin streaming down Sam’s face as he relives the horrific memory.

 

“Some part of me knew it wasn’t you, knew it was Lucifer messing with my head… that you’d never do that to me. But it looked like you, sounded like you… felt like you. And after all that time hunting, driving, joking around… it was hard to convince myself that it  _ wasn’t _ you. And I was so scared of disappointing you again, of losing you… that I said yes. You…” Sam stops and takes a few shuddering breaths to try and bring his emotions back under control, “ _ He _ kept me in that room for years. Decades. Until all I knew, all I remembered, was that room… and what I was… what he turned me into. I was a pet; a toy. My only purpose was to be used. Every humiliation, every vile degradation you can imagine, he forced me to do. And he made me enjoy it, made me crave it… made me  _ beg _ for it. And the whole time… he was you. I was still in that room when Death pulled my soul from the cage.”

 

Silence fills the dark room. Sam focuses on his breathing, trying to keep from having a panic attack from the memories he’s just shared, while Dean stares at the dark floor in front of him, his entire body frozen in shock at what Sam has revealed. The silence drags on for several long minutes before Dean can say anything.

 

“Sammy, I…” He starts, voice soft and pained, his mind still reeling, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“How could I, Dean?” Sam responds, “With everything that was going on? Everything you were having to deal with, practically alone?” He wipes the tears from his face, regaining his composure slightly, “Cas thinking he was God, trying to kill us, then the leviathans being loose, and Cas… gone. And after Bobby died… you were already carrying so much on your shoulders, I couldn’t add to that. It was hard enough telling you about the hallucinations. And honestly… I was never really able to fully convince myself that I wasn’t still in the cage. That Lucifer hadn’t started the whole nightmare over just to watch me break again. At night, after you fell asleep… the hallucinations… he would… he would remind me of what I was. It all felt so real, and I’d been trapped with him for so long… Even after you found Cas and he took the hallucinations away, it took me months to believe it was actually over. That I was back in the real world again.”

 

“Sammy,” Dean says, his voice deep with emotion, “I know I’m not exactly… good with this emotional crap,” Dean pauses when he hears Sam grunt softly at the word, “Sorry. This emotional stuff. But Sam… you should have told me. Alastair never… torture was more his speed. He threatened to once,” Dean closes his eyes and sighs softly, pain and shame in the sound, “That was the day I said yes. The day I got up off the rack and picked up the knife. I can’t even imagine what… The fact that you’re even sane, let alone stable is… well honestly, it’s fucking incredible. You’re so strong, Sammy. Stronger than I’ll ever be,” Dean can almost hear Sam opening his mouth to protest, so he continues quickly before Sam can argue, “And you listen to me. It doesn’t matter if the world is burning to the ground around us, and we’ve got every monster alive hot on our tails. We’re family. And that comes first no matter what. You should know this by now.”

 

“Dean…”

 

“I mean it, Sam,” Dean insists, his tone leaving no room for argument, “You’re my brother. I care about you, man. You and Cas are…”

 

Dean’s voice trails off at the mention of the angel, and the room goes silent again as they are both suddenly brought back to the reality that has led them to their current conversation.

 

“Dean, we have to keep fighting,” Sam says after a moment, “We have to. Because if we give up… there’s a line here, Dean. And if Cas crosses it… there won’t be anything left of him to save. And he wouldn’t want us to. When you were a demon… if Cas and I hadn’t been able to stop you… if you’d hurt or killed one of us, or worse…. you’d never have been able to live with yourself. Cas already feels useless to us. Like we only keep him around out of pity. If he comes back to himself only to find he’s hurt one of us,  _ really _ hurt us? His self-worth can’t take a hit like that. He’d put an angel blade through his own heart and call it penance. He’d think he was doing us a favor. And he’s too important to you, to  _ us _ , for us to let that happen,” Sam’s tone is strong and resolute now, the panic from earlier fading away as he speaks, “So we have to keep on fighting. No matter what. If not for us… then for him.”

 

Sam waits for several moments for Dean to respond, but the room is quiet. And without any light, Sam can’t see his brother’s face to try and figure out what’s going through his head. A minute passes. Then two. Then three. Sam is just about to try his impassioned speech again, when he hears the clink of metal moving on the other side of the room, and Dean’s voice fills the empty room, heavy with sorrow and an emotion Sam’s never heard from his brother before.

 

“He didn’t fight back.”

 

“Wha…? Cas?” Sam clarifies, confused at the sudden change of topic, “You mean in the bathroom? No, but he said that was because he was hoping we wouldn’t do it. That we’d reconsider…”

 

“No. Not in the bathroom. In the library,” Dean responds, though his answer only serves to confuse Sam even further by making him feel like they’re playing a bizarre game of Clue.

 

“The library? Dean, what are you…?”

 

“Charlie,” Dean interrupts, the sudden mention of their lost friend making Sam stop and listen to what his brother has to say, “After that family killed her, I went to their estate. The Mark… it wanted blood… vengeance. So I killed them. All of them. But three of them got away and came here. When I found them, they were putting books, artifacts, everything they could get their hands on into a pile in the middle of the library, getting ready to burn them. I stabbed one of them. Then I shot the other two,” Dean takes a deep breath as he recounts the memory. Sam continues to listen, even though it’s a story he already knows, “The kid...Cyrus. He begged me not to kill him. Told me that he hated his family, wanted nothing to do with them or the stuff they did. I told him the bad was inside him, and that no matter how hard he fought it, eventually it would win. And then I shot him. Cas got there right after I pulled the trigger,” The pain in Dean’s voice is so raw, Sam wishes he could reach his brother, comfort him in some way. But all he can do is listen as Dean continues, “I felt so betrayed by both of you. So… angry at you for trying to cure me. Cas tried to talk to me, convince me that the Mark was changing me. He was right, but I didn’t want to see it. The Mark didn’t want me to see it. So I hit him. I beat the crap out of him. And when he was lying on the floor, covered in blood and barely able to move, I took his angel blade and I… I almost killed him. And the whole time, the  _ whole time _ I’m beating on him, he never once threw a punch.  _ Not. One _ .”

 

“Dean, that wasn’t you. It was the Mark. And Cas…”

 

“When Metatron sent those suicide angel bombers,” Dean continues as though Sam hasn’t spoken, “And Tessa impaled herself on the First Blade, all Cas would’ve had to do was take me in a room, throw a few punches, and those angels would have stayed with him. He would have been able to convince them that I was more useful alive, and we could have taken down Metatron with an army of angels behind us. I would have been angry at him, but I would’ve gotten over it. Eventually,” Dean runs a shaky hand through his hair, “Once we’d gotten rid of the Mark anyway. But the point is that he didn’t. He gave up an entire army… because he didn’t want to hurt me. That was his shot at redemption, at going back to Heaven. And he gave it up. He rebelled against Heaven  _ twice _ ! When we were in Purgatory, he tried to stay away from me, go it alone, because everything in there was trying to kill him and he wanted to keep me safe. He’s the one who pulled me out of Hell for Christ’s sake!” Dean realizes he’s yelling and stops, taking several deep breaths to calm himself back down, “He’s given up everything for us, and he has  _ always _ been there when we needed him. Hell, one time he just stood by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere for hours, waiting for me to take a nap.”

 

“Dean, I know all this,” Sam says, his voice quiet and worried, “Are you saying that you deserve this? What he’s doing?”

 

“I don’t know, Sam. Maybe,” There is a note of defeat in Dean’s tone that makes Sam worry even more, “Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on in my head right now. I mean, I know you’re right, about needing to fight him in order to try and keep him from doing something he can’t forgive himself for, but there’s also this part of me that… doesn’t know if I can. If I even want to. How fucked up is that?”

 

“Actually, it makes sense.” Sam says quietly, understanding replacing his worry.

 

“How in the hell does not wanting to fight being tortured by my best friend make sense?” Dean demands.

 

It suddenly dawns on Sam that Dean’s statement about “not being good with emotional crap” might be more accurate than either of them realized.

 

“Dude, seriously?” Sam starts, a tiny smile curving his lips despite the situation, “It’s because you’re in love with him.”

 

“Wait, what?” Dean responds, startled by Sam’s sudden statement. He runs a nervous hand through his hair, “Okay, look. I know you heard what he said when… earlier. And, I’ll admit that I might have…  _ thought _ about him when I was… alone a few times, but that  _ does not _ mean that I’m in love with him. I mean, I care about him, sure. He’s family. I care about you too.”

 

“Have you ever fantasized about  _ me _ when you were getting off?” Sam inquires softly, keeping any trace of judgement, or hope, from his voice.

 

“What? NO! I would never... you’re my brother for God’s sake!,” Dean shivers slightly, “Why? You ever fantasize about me?” He fires back, feeling decidedly uncomfortable at the question, and lashing out with a classic Winchester deflection.

 

There is an awkward moment of silence, and Sam shifts around on the floor, the clink of the chains around his wrists echoing in the quiet of the room.

 

“S-sam…?” Dean stammers, a bit more than slightly concerned by his brother’s silence.

 

“But you fantasize about Cas?” Sam continues, trying to steer the conversation back and away from Dean’s question.

 

“I… that’s… it was just… it doesn’t…” Dean scrambles for an excuse, momentarily forgetting Sam’s silence at his question, “That doesn’t mean I’m  _ in love _ with him! It just means I find him… attractive. That’s all! What can I say, the holy tax accountant look works for me,” Dean smirks, hoping to derail the conversation before it can go any further.

 

Sam doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he raises an eyebrow at Dean, giving Dean the look his older brother calls his “bitch face,” despite the fact that he knows Dean can’t see him in the darkness.

 

“Don’t give me that look!”

 

“How do you know what look I’m giving you? You can’t see me!” Sam returns with a smirk of his own, a little surprised Dean actually knew what he was doing, though he supposes he shouldn’t be.

 

“I know you, Sam,” Dean responds.

 

“And I know you, Dean,” Sam echoes, softening his tone. There is an awkward silence for a few moments while Sam tries to figure out how he can get his emotionally challenged brother to see what everyone else has known for years. It might be something they can use to snap Cas back to himself, but only if Dean will stop hiding from himself and admit it. Taking a steadying breath, Sam proceeds, “I’ve been watching you with Cas for almost a decade. The looks, the touches. It’s obvious to anyone who’s in a room with the two of you for more than five minutes. And, I get it. Emotions aren’t your strong suit. And this kind of love… it’s not exactly something you’re familiar with.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean retorts, a bit heated, “I was with Lisa for over a year. Are you telling me that wasn’t real? That I didn’t love her?”

 

“Of course not, Dean. But this is different,” Sam explains patiently, glad that Dean has dropped his defenses a little; denying his brother’s claim about his familiarity with love instead of denying that love altogether, “Lisa was… she was a port in the storm. A place to put yourself back together after you thought I was gone. She was a chance at a normal life. But Cas… he’s more than that, Dean. You said it yourself. He’s always been there when you called, when you needed him. And he gave up everything; not for me, not to save the world… for  _ you _ . I saw the way you looked at Lisa, and I know you cared for her. But when I see you look at Cas… your whole body relaxes, and your eyes light up… It’s like you’ve been wandering and lost for years, and you’ve finally come home.” Sam wishes he could see Dean’s face, and that Dean could see his. The other side of the room is quiet, but Sam knows that this might be his only chance to make Dean see the truth. “Our lives, they aren’t exactly normal on a good day. And I’m not saying that you and Cas should buy a house and settle down with a white picket fence. But you have got to stop hiding from this, Dean. You’re in love with him, and you have been for a while. I don’t know exactly how long, but…”

 

“Since the moment he rebelled against Heaven,” Dean answers with a sigh, his voice so quiet that Sam isn’t sure he heard him, “He banished Zachariah from the angelic green room and sacrificed himself to an archangel so that I could try and stop you from killing Lilith.” Dean takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He knows Sam’s right. And considering the situation, there’s really no point in trying to hide from his feelings any longer. They’ll either figure out a way to bring the angel back to himself, and he and Cas can maybe start to build something together… or they won’t, and they’ll break. Dean is pretty sure he knows which way it’s going to go, and as difficult as it is, he’d rather admit his feelings now… before they become corrupted. “The angels… none of them gave a damn about trying to stop Lucifer, or what he was going to do to the world once he got free of the cage, or how many people were going to die for their “plan.” And they certainly didn’t give two shits about what was going to happen to us. But Cas… Even from the beginning he was different,” Another sigh, heavier this time, and Dean leans his head back against the wall behind him,

 

“Our whole lives, it’s just been us. You and me against the world. We were the only people we could count on,” Dean’s voice is quiet, but solid, “Dad wasn’t exactly a shining example of parenting even on his best day, and he never gave a damn about what we wanted. No one did. Until Cas. And he did more than just care. He could have just zapped me out of that room and left me to figure the rest out on my own. But he did more than that. He literally gave up everything. His family, his power, his home, his friends, his purpose…  _ everything _ … for me.” Dean pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his arms on them,

 

“I’m not stupid, Sam. But I thought it was just gratitude at first. I’d never had anyone really care about me that much before, except for you. I mean Bobby loved us, sure, but he had his own problems to deal with. And Dad… well… Dad was always more concerned with hunting and finding the thing that killed Mom than he was with taking care of us. But the… feeling… didn’t go away. So then I thought it might be some sort of left over, residual something or other from him pulling my soul out of Hell. Like it left some sort of mark or something, beyond the visible one, and I was feeling that.” Dean rubs the freshly made handprint on his shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment at the ache… and the memory of the original one.

 

“But the more time I spent with him, and he was around a lot while we were trying to figure out how to stop Lucifer and Michael, the more I… I don’t know… I kind of saw myself in him I guess. I mean, we both had absent fathers we still felt like we needed to impress, and a sort of messed up family life. When he asked for my necklace, I thought he was gonna bail on us. But he didn’t. He was trying to find  _ God _ , and he  _ still _ came every time I called. And then when Anna went back in time to kill Mom and Dad… When I saw him on the ground, leaning against that car… bleeding… I took him up to the hotel room and tried to clean him up as best I could. Then I sat there for a moment, just looking at him. He looked so small and frail, and his skin was so pale. I was terrified. I didn’t care if we got stuck in 1978, as long as he was okay. He nearly burned out his grace, and himself along with it, to take us back in time. And when he said he was “much better than he expected”... Sammy… He thought it was going to kill him. And he did it anyway. He could have gone by himself without telling us, but instead, he did what we asked, even thinking it was going to kill him.” Dean takes another steadying breath,

 

“And as I sat there, I realized that it wasn’t gratitude or the bond we have… It was more than that. So much more. But I couldn’t… I just couldn’t admit to myself what I was feeling. So I buried it. Told myself every excuse in the book. Even now, I still can’t really accept it. Which is stupid, I know, but we’re hunters, Sam. Stuff like this… it’s what makes you sloppy… gets you killed. And God knows that’s already enough of a problem with just you and me.” Dean sighs again, and there’s so much sorrow in that single sound, that Sam’s pulse begins to race, and his breath comes short, “But now… Sammy… I know we need to keep fighting, I do. And I’ll try, I promise, I will, but… I won’t last long, Sam. I know I won’t.”

 

“I… I know,” Sam admits hesitantly, unsure of how to comfort his brother.

 

“And, Sam… You know he’s probably going to… to make us… do things… with each other again…” Dean stammers out, his face flushing with embarrassment and shame.

 

“Is that really such a bad thing?” Sam says before he can stop himself, his voice tired. His entire body aches from the beating it’s taken over the last two days, and he’s starting to shiver from the chill of the room.

 

“Of course it’s a…” Dean stops short as he remembers Sam’s silence when he’d asked if his brother fantasized about him, “Sam… do you…?”

 

“It’s better than being punished, isn’t it?”

 

The room falls eerily quiet. Sam pulls his knees closer to his chest, trying to conserve what little body heat he has, while Dean stares at his legs, his mind reeling at the implications of Sam’s questions, unable to provide a response.

 

***

 

The days pass in tense, uncomfortable silence. Occasionally, one of them will try and start a conversation to fill the quiet, but it never lasts for more than a few minutes before neither of them can think of anything else to say. Without windows or light, there is no way for them to tell how long Cas has been gone, and with the knowledge of what will happen when he returns looming over them, time seems to almost come to a halt, and they can do nothing but wait in the darkness. They eat and drink sparingly, just enough to stave off the worst of the hunger pains and thirst, and rest as much as they can. But between their apprehension and the chill of the room, what sleep they manage to get is minimal, the cold cement floor providing no comfort to their bruised bodies. They are so tired and hungry, and their minds are so frayed from fear and exhaustion, that when they finally hear footsteps in the hallway, and a key turning in the lock, relief floods through them, any amount of pain being preferable to sitting in the cold darkness for a single moment longer.

 

Castiel pushes open the doors to the dungeon, and light floods the room. Sam and Dean wince at the sudden brightness, turning their faces away and closing their eyes against it. Before they have time to adjust, Cas turns on the overhead light, and the brothers flinch in pain, bringing up their arms to cover their burning eyes.

 

Sam and Dean blink rapidly against the light, while Cas closes the door, and sets his angel blade on the table. He takes off his trench coat, which is rumpled and bloody, and lays it over the arm of the chair by the door. Then he turns to the brothers.

 

“I apologize. I was gone longer than I expected,” Cas says while he loosens his tie.

 

“W-where were you? W-what happened?” Sam asks, his voice cracking from dehydration and disuse.

 

“An old friend, an angel named Benjamin, called out for help,” Cas answers sadly, setting his tie on the chair, his suit coat following soon after, “He was killed by a woman who used Enochian magic to extend her life in order to get revenge on the angels who killed her daughter over a century ago. I served with Benjamin when we were ordered to end the child’s life. We were told she was a Nephilim. Except the commander of our flight, Ishim, lied to us. He wanted revenge on the child’s mother, Lily, because she did not return his love for her. The girl was human. Innocent. I learned of Ishim’s actions when we confronted Lily after she killed Mirabel, another from our flight. Ishim tried to kill both of us, but she held him with her power long enough for me to kill him.”

 

“A-are you… okay?” Dean looks pointedly at Cas’s trench coat and the blood stains on it. Even though he knows what’s coming as he watches Cas begin to roll up his sleeves, he can’t help his worry for the angel. “Is she still after you?”

 

“I required a day of rest to heal and replenish my grace after the fight, but I have recovered. And, no. She said I was different, that I’d changed since that time. She had finally gotten her revenge, and she was grateful for my help, so she spared me in exchange,” Cas finishes with his sleeves and begins walking towards Sam, “But while I appreciate your concern, and believe it is truly genuine, the unexpected situation with Ishim has already delayed me longer than I anticipated. You both still need to be punished. Not only did you try to leave me behind once again, but you attacked me and attempted to trap me with holy fire.” He drops to one knee once he reaches Sam.

 

“We tried to leave to find help, to escape from being tortured. You left us in the dark for days with barely enough food to survive, and we’re the ones who deserve to be punished?” Sam retorts, glaring at Cas as anger surges through him, renewing his determination to fight.

 

He sees Cas move a split second before the angel backhands him, the force of it knocking him to the floor. His body is so weak from exhaustion and hunger, that even though he manages to catch himself on his hands, his arms collapse out from under him. Cas fists a hand in his hair, and yanks him back up into a sitting position, holding his head back and forcing Sam to look at him. Sam trembles slightly at the wrath in Cas’s eyes, but he ignores his fear, scowling back at the angel.

 

“I had hoped some time alone would make you understand, make you reconsider your disobedience. But I see you have not yet learned to respect me,” Cas tightens his grip in Sam’s hair, making the taller man wince slightly at the pain, but not displacing the look of defiance, “I did not leave you because I wished to, Sam. I left to deal with a personal matter. But you and Dean have left me behind time and time again because you think I am useless, both as an angel and as a hunter. You believe I am broken, that I need to be  _ fixed _ . Do you think this is easy for me? That I enjoy punishing you? It tears me apart to see the two of you in pain. I am your angel. You belong to me. I love you more than my own life. But you have forced my hand. I tried to be tolerant, understanding. I even rewarded you for your obedience, to show you that I forgave you for your actions. But you rebelled against my generosity. Against me.”

 

“Yes, you’re right,” Sam admits, changing tactics slightly, the anger in his eyes changing to guilt. They need to keep fighting, but it’s obvious he can’t convince Cas not to punish them. And he knows that Dean is already on the edge. He might not make it through their punishment. So Sam does the only thing he’s been able to think of to try and save his brother, “But you said you heard us. So you know that escaping was  _ my _ idea, not Dean’s. I’m the one that attacked you, I’m the one that wanted to trap you in holy fire. He wanted to stay, but I convinced him to go against you. It was all me,” Cas tilts his head as Sam talks, the grip on his hair loosening as he listens, which gives Sam hope that he can get through to the angel, at least about this, “You didn’t… punish me for making the deal with Billie because it was… it was Dean’s idea. So please don’t… don’t punish him for my mistakes.”

 

“Sam, no!” Dean yells brokenly, but Sam keeps his eyes locked on Cas, pleading silently with the angel.

 

Cas releases his hold on Sam’s hair, petting him gently to ease away the pain.

 

“I have promised to treat you equally, Sam, and I will keep that promise,” Cas says, his own anger softening, “And you are right. It would be unfair of me to punish Dean for your transgressions. But you have shown me that I cannot be lenient with either of you. I did not punish you for your involvement with Billie, and that was a mistake. You did not learn your lesson as Dean did. It is a mistake I will not make again. So Dean will still be punished. However, I will allow you to take a portion of his punishment.”

 

“Thank you, Cas,” Sam nearly sobs, his gratitude genuine. 

 

“Sam, I love you. Both of you,” Cas assures him, unhooking his cuffs from the chain in the wall, helping the younger brother to his feet, and keeping an arm under his elbow and around his waist to steady him as he leads him to the chains hanging in the center of the room, “Nothing will ever change that,” He raises Sam’s arms and clips them to the chain, his hand coming down to cup Sam’s cheek, “I take no pleasure in punishing either of you, but I will do it as often as necessary until you learn the lessons I am trying to teach you. But know this,” He turns to Dean, making sure they are both listening to him before he continues, “I will  _ always _ be fair. I will never punish you unless you give me cause, and never more than is required. And I will never do anything to damage you permanently.” With a final caress, Cas drops his hand from Sam’s face and goes over to the table, picking up the whip. When he returns to Sam, he places a comforting hand on his back, “I am going to punish you for attacking me and attempting to trap me. The punishment is one hundred strokes a piece.”

 

“No, please… please…” Dean whispers in terror. He meets Sam’s eyes for a moment before Sam turns away, readying himself for the pain to come.

 

“Sam, you will take half of Dean’s punishment for inciting your brother to rebel against me,” Cas explains, ignoring Dean’s strangled cry of protest. He rubs Sam’s back gently, “You have shown great strength by taking responsibility for your actions, and I am not without compassion. If you bear this well, I will allow you to eat and rest before I administer the rest of your punishment and Dean’s.”

 

Sam nods shakily in understanding, and the hand on his back disappears. The pain is worse this time, his exhausted and already aching body unable to withstand the onslaught as well as before. His screams tear at his already abraded throat, and his legs shake and threaten to collapse out from under him. He is so lost in the agony of his punishment, that he doesn’t realize it’s over until a hand cups his cheek, lifting his tear stained face to meet soft blue eyes.

 

“You did well, Sam,” Cas praises him, making Sam’s breathing hitch and his chest feel tight, a reaction the angel notices, “I am very proud of you.”

 

Carefully, Cas lowers Sam’s arms, rubbing the feeling back into them as he did before, then leading him back to the side wall. When Cas reaches for the chain, Sam grasps the front of the angel’s shirt, causing Cas to turn suddenly to face him, anger starting to darken his eyes. Sam ducks his head quickly, but keeps ahold of Cas’s shirt.

 

“I’m not… I just… please…” Sam begs tearfully, tightening his grip in the white fabric, “Please… can I just… please, I… I want my brother… please, Cas… just for a minute… please…”

 

The anger in Cas’s eyes fades as fast as it appeared, replaced by caring and understanding. He covers Sam’s hands where they hold his shirt, squeezing them slightly.

 

“Of course, Sam,” Cas nods, taking the keys and removing the chain from the wall, then leading Sam over to Dean’s side of the room, “I know it must have been difficult to be separated for that long. You did well, so I will allow you to rest with Dean,” He reattaches the chain to the opposite wall, hooking Sam’s cuffs to the end. He eases Sam to his knees next to Dean, then runs a hand through Sam’s hair, tilting his head back to make him meet the angel’s eyes. The kindness is still there, but there is steel underneath,  “Do not make me regret allowing you this comfort.”

 

“I-I won’t,” Sam assures him, fighting against the urge to lean into Cas’s touch, “T-thank you, Cas.”

 

“I will return momentarily with some food.”

 

Cas stands and leaves the dungeon, locking the door behind him. Once he is gone, Dean moves closer to Sam, being careful not to touch his bruised back as Sam drops his head to his brother’s shoulder. There are no words Dean can think to offer that will even begin to help, so he does the only thing he can do. He holds Sam as close as possible, rocking slightly as silent tears roll down both their cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! And please leave me a kudo and a comment! Hearing from you guys gives me motivation to write more!


	6. Broken - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first. This chapter, this entire story, would not be happening if it wasn't for my magnificent, amazing, inspirational muse suitsflash. She is there through every moment of writer's block, every time I need someone to bounce an idea off of, every time I need someone to tell me that it's worth continuing. I could not do this story without her. She is my Melpomene, and I love her.
> 
> Next, if you can't tell by the chapter title, shit's going to start getting real serious.
> 
> Warnings: Torture, Psychological Torture
> 
> Enjoy!

When they start to hear footsteps in the hallway, Sam lifts his head from Dean’s shoulder and looks into his brother’s eyes. They are slightly glazed over with fear and pain, and Sam’s heart breaks when he sees that the immeasurable amount of fight that lights the fire in Dean’s eyes… is nearly gone. He leans forward and rests his forehead against Dean’s, gripping his brother’s cuffed hands with his own, trying to convey as much strength and comfort as he can.

 

“Fight,” Sam breathes, his voice barely even a whisper, “Fight.”

 

A tear rolls down Dean’s cheek as he turns his hands and clasps Sam’s in his, squeezing tightly. He closes his eyes and nods in a silent promise. The dungeon door swings open, and Dean starts to let go of Sam’s hands, but Sam holds on, not ready to let his brother go just yet. They both turn to face the angel as he closes the door, carrying a plastic shopping bag in one hand. Sam reluctantly lets go of Dean’s hands as Cas drops to one knee in front of them and begins pulling items out of the bag. There are two take-out containers, and two bottles of water. He sets one of each in front of them, then reaches out his hands to run them through their hair.

 

“I am aware that this is perhaps not the type of food you would prefer, but it is a balanced meal. I will not let you starve, but you have rejected my kindness. I want to give you everything, a warm bed, food you love,” Cas sighs shakes his head sadly, “I want you to be happy and comfortable. But those are privileges you have not yet earned. And until you learn and understand that you are a danger to yourselves, that I only want what’s best for you, that I am your angel, and that you belong to me, I cannot, in good conscience, show you mercy. How long will you continue to fight against my love for you? Against me?”

 

Dean closes his eyes tightly against the love and caring in Cas’s eyes that he so desperately wants to just let himself fall into. He sets his mouth in a grim line, gritting his teeth and reluctantly forcing himself to turn his head away from the comforting touch in his hair. Sam lowers his head, staring into his lap to avoid the angel’s gaze. When neither brother answers him, Cas sighs again, the sound heavy with disappointment and sadness.

 

“Very well,” Cas says, standing and letting his hands drop to his sides, “I have promised you food and rest. I will return in a few hours to finish administering your punishment.”

 

Cas turns and leaves the room again, grabbing his discarded clothing on his way out the door. Sam and Dean open the white foam boxes to find a plastic fork, a plain sandwich with a single slice of lunch meat and a piece of processed cheese, a serving of what looks to be slimy mixed vegetables from a can, and half of a banana. It looks extremely unappetizing, and it makes them miss the food from their time in solitary. The bread is dry and slightly stale, making it difficult to swallow, though the water helps some. The vegetables are mushy and unsalted, and the banana was probably ripe several days ago. But their bodies are so starving, having eaten nothing but crackers for days, that they eat all of it, gagging their way through, but making no complaints. Food has become a luxury they can’t afford to throw away.

 

When they are finished forcing down their food, Sam takes Dean’s hands in his own again, and puts as much determination and fire in them as his agonized body can muster, and locks his gaze with Dean’s. They sit there, staring at each other, drawing strength from the other’s presence for a long time, until the pain in Sam’s back becomes too much, and he lays his head on Dean’s shoulder. With a slight shift, making Sam winch and groan at the movement, Dean eases his brother’s head into his lap, and gently runs his fingers through the long strands he has so frequently teased him about. They both know what is coming next, and they don’t know how long they have until Cas returns.

 

Dean has no words, either admonishment or gratitude, for Sam’s sacrifice in taking part of his punishment. He knows why Sam did it. So while he cards his fingers through Sam’s hair, he reaffirms his promise to himself. He won’t let that sacrifice be in vain. He knows he’s close to breaking. He can feel it in his mind, and in his heart. The months left alone in a tiny cell, and now the pain coupled with loving touches he’s always craved… He can feel himself giving in,  _ wants _ to give in. But he’s promised Sam that he will fight. And as he looks down at the even rise and fall of Sam’s chest as he sleeps, at the welts and bruises covering his back, at the man he’s raised since infancy, the man he would, and has, died to protect, he knows he will keep that promise. Even if doing so is the last thing he does… before he breaks and gives Cas exactly what he wants.

 

***

 

As Cas walks down the hallway to the bunker’s laundry room to clean his bloodied trench coat, he feels the familiar vibration of his cell phone in his coat pocket. He pulls it out and grimaces when he’s sees Mary’s name on the screen. She’d called a few times while he’d been dealing with Ishim, and he knows he can’t ignore her calls for much longer. If he does, and she can’t get ahold of either Sam or Dean, it is very likely that she will return to the bunker… and then try and stop him from helping them. He swipes the little green button to answer the call, and raises it to his ear.

 

“Hello, Mary,” He says without preamble, keeping his voice neutral.

 

“Castiel. Thank god. I’ve been trying to reach Sam and Dean for the last few days and they haven’t answered their phones. And when you didn’t answer either… I was starting to fear the worst.” Her voice is slightly panicked, but a little relieved as well.

 

“Sam and Dean are handling a case in a location without much service,” Cas informs her, the lie rolling off his tongue easily, “I was dealing with a personal matter myself until last night. I only returned to the bunker an hour ago. I apologize for not answering your call.”

 

“A personal matter? Is everything alright?” Mary asks, her motherly concern overruling any frustration she might have had at being unable to reach them.

 

“Yes. It was nothing serious,” Cas says, gentling his tone to easy her worry, “And you needn’t worry about Sam and Dean. I spoke with them before I left to return to the bunker. They said they will be delayed a few more days than they expected. They believe they are hunting a changeling, but it is proving more elusive than they anticipated. I was supposed to call you to tell you they are doing fine, and I apologize for forgetting to do so.”

 

“Oh, that’s alright, Castiel,“ Mary assures him, “As long as they’re safe, that’s all that matters. But when they get home, will you have them call me?”

 

“Of course,” Cas promises, the lie buying him some time to figure out how to deal with the Winchester’s mother.

 

“Thank you. And you should get some rest, Castiel. You sound exhausted.”

 

“Angels do not require sleep,” Cas reminds her.

 

“Sleep and rest are two different things,” Mary says with a slight smile in her voice, “Just take care of yourself, okay? I’m sure they don’t say it, but my boys need you.”

 

“I know,” Cas agrees with a hint of sorrow, “And I will do whatever it takes to help them and keep them safe.”

 

“I know you will. But, angel or not, you still need rest. You can’t help them if you burn yourself out.” The motherly tone is back in her voice, and it makes Cas slightly uncomfortable.

 

“I understand. I’m going to go now,” He says, wanting the conversation to end before she makes some offer of coming over to check on him.

 

“Alright. Take care, Castiel. And have Sam and Dean call me when they get back.”

 

“I will.” And before she can say anything else, he hangs up the phone and places it in his pants pocket, before heading into the laundry room to wash the blood from his coat, his mind whirling as he tries to decide how he is going to handle her when deflection no longer works.

 

***

 

Their nauseating meal has finally finished rolling in their stomachs, and the open wounds on Sam’s back have just barely stopped bleeding when Cas pushes open the dungeon door, startling Sam awake. A gentle hand in his hair stops him from sitting up reflexively, an action he is immediately grateful for as the pain in his back makes itself known, causing him to bite his lip to keep from crying out. As Cas walks towards them, Dean helps ease Sam into a sitting position. It’s a slow process, as lying still for so long has caused Sam’s bruised and battered muscles to stiffen up, but Dean keeps a steady grip on Sam’s arms, resolutely refusing to look at Cas as the angel gathers their food containers and sets them on the table. When he returns, he drops to one knee and looks at each of them in turn.

 

“It’s time. I’m going to finish administering your punishment now.”

 

Cas reaches for Sam’s cuffed wrists, and Dean grabs his arm, gripping the bunched white fabric tightly. With a look of irritation, that Dean can see is a hair’s breadth from anger, Cas turns to the older brother, his gaze demanding an explanation. Dean meets the blue fire of Cas’s eyes.

 

“Wait. You haven’t healed him yet,” Dean implores, keeping his voice soft, but resolute.

 

“I have already told you, Dean,” Cas says with great patience, laying his hand over Dean’s, “I can no longer show you mercy. That mercy is what led to your rebellion. I will heal you when you have finished being punished, when you have learned your lesson.”

 

“You just promised you wouldn’t damage us!” Dean shakes Cas’s arm, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

 

“I will not cause you any  _ permanent _ damage,” Cas corrects him, removing Dean’s hands from his sleeve, and unhooking Sam’s cuffs from their connecting chain.

 

Sam trembles as Cas helps him to the center of the room, and his arms are lifted and secured in place. Every muscle in his body feels like it’s on fire, the movement making the wounds on his back reopen, and tears start to slide down his cheeks at the pain, and the fear of even more to come. When Cas kneels to unhook Dean, the older brother grabs the angel’s arm again, keeping his gaze lowered to avoid seeing the anger he knows is in Cas’s eyes.

 

“Please, Cas,” He begs, his own hands trembling as he tightens his grip on the fabric, “Please… You can’t… If you keep p-punishing him without healing…“

 

“Dean,” Cas starts, the patience in his voice wearing thin, “I grow tired of repeating myself. You and Sam are going to be punished for your actions against me. You  _ will _ learn to respect me and my authority,” Cas unclips Dean’s wrists and yanks him to his feet, “Now, you can either accept your punishment without further argument, or you can continue to fight against me, you will still be punished, and I will separate you and your brother for the rest of the night. Which will it be, Dean?”

 

Dean slumps his shoulders in defeat, and lets Cas pull him to the center of the room. His tear filled eyes meet Sam’s briefly in apology, and Sam returns the look with a nod of understanding, his own eyes filled with determination, and something Dean can only describe as love. No matter what Cas does to them, they would rather suffer together, than apart.

 

Cas circles around behind them, laying a comforting hand on each of them, being careful to avoid Sam’s injuries.

 

“I love you both, so very much,” Cas says, “But you have hurt me deeply by attempting to leave me behind again. And for that, you must be punished. I will not tolerate disobedience,” Cas drops his hands, and both brothers immediately miss the warmth of his touch. He picks up the whip from the table and turns back to them with a deep sigh, “Since Sam has already taken half of Dean’s punishment, Dean will receive fifty strokes, and Sam will receive the original punishment of one hundred.”

 

Sam’s breathing becomes quick and shallow at the thought of bearing twice the amount of pain he’d received barely a few hours ago with his back still bleeding and raw. As panic and fear threaten to overwhelm him, he closes his eyes and tries to clear his head, repeating ‘ _ I can do this _ ’ over and over in his mind like a mantra. For the first several dozen years he’d spent in the cage, when Michael had still enjoyed joining Lucifer in torturing him, he’d used the phrase as a lifeline, the one thing he could hold on to amidst the neverending flames of agony. He can hear Dean’s whispered voice beside him, begging for mercy that will never come. Then Dean’s pleas are cut short as the whip comes down, the scream that rips from his older brother’s throat tearing at Sam’s soul.

 

He’d known it would be bad. Undergoing another beating on top of fresh wounds that haven’t even stopped bleeding was bound to be one of the worst things he would ever experience. But the sheer agony that slices through him as the whip strikes him twice in quick succession is worse than Sam’s extremely vivid imagination could have possibly anticipated. His knees begin to shake, threatening to collapse from beneath him and the broken howling sob that escapes him is lost amid Dean’s own cry of pain as he is struck again.

 

The horrific pattern seems to repeat endlessly, one stroke tearing into Dean followed by two ripping into Sam. Sam’s legs give out about halfway through, his body hanging limply from his wrists, his screams dulling to quiet sobs as his overwrought body succumbs to the pain, and his vision starts to go gray around the edges. Sam is barely cognisant of arms around his waist, lifting him slightly as his wrists are unhooked from the chain above him, his arms falling heavily onto Cas’s shoulders with nothing there to hold them up. Cas half carries, half drags Sam back over to his side of the room, gently laying him down on his side on the cold cement. Sam lies there, unmoving, as Cas retrieves the long chain from the other side of the room, attaching it first to the wall and then to Sam’s wrists. As his vision begins to clear, and his mind slowly comes back to himself, Sam becomes aware of a hand brushing through his hair. He leans into it, desperately seeking the comfort it offers. Then Cas’s gravelly voice speaks above him, and he nearly sobs at the words.

 

“Have you learned your lesson, Sam? Will you be good now and obey me?” Cas asks, nothing but kindness and caring in his tone.

 

Sam closes his eyes against the sound of Cas’s voice, against the desire to give in, and uses the last of his body’s strength to turn his face away from the angel. With a deep, sorrowful sigh, Cas stands and leaves, and Sam hates himself for the small whine that slips past his lips at the loss of Cas’s touch.

 

Dean watches Cas tend to Sam, fear clenching at his heart at how unresponsive his brother is. His own body is overrun with pain, fire scorching through his veins, and his mind is screaming at him to give in, to do anything,  _ everything _ , just to make it stop. But as Cas walks towards him, Dean looks down at Sam, his normally bright hazel brown eyes cloudy and unfocused, and remembers his promise. Every fiber of his being wants to submit, to give Cas anything he wants, to put an end to their suffering. Dean has to stifle a sob as Cas cups his cheek gently.

 

“Have you learned you lesson, Dean?” Cas repeats the same question he’d asked of Sam, “Do you understand now that I am your angel? That you belong to me?”

 

Dean bites his lip, pulling hard against the cuffs restraining him until they bite into his wrists, fighting against his own heart and mind as he forces out the answer he’s promised his brother he’d give.

 

“N-no. W-we don’t… b-b-belong… to a-anyone…” Dean whispers brokenly.

 

The disappointment is clear in Cas’s eyes as he unhooks Dean from the chain and helps him to the floor on his side of the room, reattaching his cuffs to the chain in the wall.

 

“Why do you continue to fight me?” Cas’s voice is soft and sad as he cards his hand through Dean’s hair, “All you have to do is accept that I love you, that I am your angel, and that you belong to me, and this can end. I know your desires, Dean. I know how much you love me. So why do you continue to reject me?”

 

Dean keeps his eyes firmly rooted to the ground, afraid that if he looks at Cas, the resolve he is barely clinging onto by a thread will dissolve and break. After several long moments with no answer, Cas sighs again and stands.

 

“I will leave you to rest for the night,” Cas informs them, “Perhaps by morning you will have changed your minds, understand that I am only trying to help you.”

 

Without another word, Cas leaves the dungeon, turning off the lights before he closes the door, leaving the brothers alone, once again, in total darkness.

 

***

 

“Sam! Sammy! Talk to me, Sam! Please!” Dean cries out in the darkness, his broken sobs bringing Sam more fully back to himself.

 

He tries to push himself up into a sitting position, but immediately regrets it as his back explodes in pain. He lays back down with a soft groan and takes a few shallow breaths.

 

“I’m here, Dean,” Sam manages to answer, his voice hoarse from overuse, “I’m right here.”

 

“Are you…” Dean pauses before he finishes the question, suppressing his own emotions until he’s sure Sam is okay, “Is anything broken?”

 

“No, I’m… I’m okay,” Sam responds, his voice betraying the lie in his words.

 

“You’re not… Sam, you are not okay,” Dean retorts tearfully, “And Cas… he’s not going to stop until we give him what he wants.”

 

Sam feels the tears run down his cheek as he tries to prepare himself for what he knows Dean is going to say. He’d seen the look in Dean’s eyes when Cas had spoken to him, asked Dean why he continued to fight, and he knows the only reason Dean has held out as long as he has is because he promised Sam he would. Sam listens to Dean’s laboured breathing for a moment in the darkness, and his chest burns with pain as his heart breaks, realizing what he has to do.

 

“I know,” Sam says simply, voice soft.

 

“You can’t take another beating like that, Sam. You can’t! And I can’t…” Dean’s voice, which had risen as he spoke quiets again, “Sammy… Sammy, I’m so sorry… but I don’t think I can… I just can’t…”

 

“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam assures his brother gently, taking as deep a breath as his wounds will allow, “I know. You’ve done the best you can, and it’s okay. I understand. Just… get some rest for now, alright?”

 

Dean closes his eyes against the tears that he can’t seem to stop, and nods briefly before remembering that Sam can’t see him.

 

“Yeah, you should rest too.”

 

Dean tries to get as comfortable as he can on the cold cement floor, and quickly drifts off to sleep. Sam waits until he hears Dean’s breathing even out before he whispers his own promise to himself.

 

“I love you, Dean. More than you… more than you can ever know. And I know you fought as hard as you could. But it’s okay. I’ll keep fighting… for both of us,” He looks at the dungeon door, the small streak of light just barely visible under the shelves, “For all of us.”

 

***

 

Dean wakes a few hours later, his body screaming out in agony, and his throat as dry and scratchy as sandpaper. He sits up slowly, using the wall to keep from falling flat on his face. His fists clench when he hears a soft pained moan come from Sam, and he feels the tears begin to well in his eyes. While his own pain is immense, he knows Sam’s must be unbearable. And the thought that they’ll have to endure more when Cas returns… He can’t do it. He hates himself for even thinking it, but he knows that as soon as Cas opens that door again, he’ll give in. And right now, he is so cold, so hungry, and in so much pain... He just wants it to end.

 

He knows Sam is awake, but even his legendary pride doesn’t care. Pushing himself to his knees, he folds his hands in front of him, bowing his head as tears stream down his cheeks.

 

“C-castiel,” He prays quietly, his voice broken by pain and sobs, “Please hear this. I want… I u-understand now. I-I’ve learned my lesson. Cas… please.”

 

For several moments, Dean hears nothing in response to his prayer. He is about to give up hope, when the sound of footsteps in the hallway makes him sob anew in relief. Cas swings open the door and turns on the light, temporarily blinding both of the brothers. There is the slightest smile on Cas’s lips as he walks directly towards Dean, dropping to one knee and clasping his hands over the older brother’s.

 

“Dean, I heard your prayer,” Cas says, and although there is happiness in his deep blue eyes, Dean can still see the steel underneath, “I am pleased that you understand. But, I must be sure. Tell me Dean, what have you learned? I wish to hear it you say it.”

 

Dean bows his head even further, his shoulders slumped completely in submission. His voice is quiet and broken as he speaks, making Sam’s heart ache at the words.

 

“You a-are our angel. I… I b-b-belong to you.”

 

“Do you swear to obey me in all things, to respect my authority, to understand that I alone know what is best for you?” Cas asks, squeezing Dean’s hands lightly.

 

“Yes.” Dean agrees without hesitation.

 

“Say it, Dean.”

 

“I swear… “ Dean swallows down the last vestige of his pride that tries to surface, and gives Cas what he wants, “I swear to a-always obey you, and respect your authority, and I u-understand that you are the only one who k-knows what’s best for me.”

 

“Do you love me, Dean?”

 

“Yes, Cas,” Dean sobs, “I love you.”

 

On instinct, Dean leans his head down and kisses Cas’s hand where it rests over his own. Cas cups his cheek, lifting his face to make him look at him. Cas smiles and gently brushes a stray lock of hair from Dean’s face.

 

“I love you as well, Dean,” Cas admits, his eyes softening with emotion, “Since the moment I touched your soul to pull you from Hell, I knew that I would always love you, that I would do anything for you.”

 

Overwhelmed by his admission, and from hearing the words he’s longed to hear for so long, Dean leans forward and does what he’s wanted to do for what seems a lifetime. He kisses Cas, gently pressing his lips to the angel’s for a brief second. When he pulls away, there is a true smile on Cas’s face, and Dean can’t help but return it.

 

Sam watches the exchange from his side of the room, his very soul aching from the pain of it. He’d known Dean would break soon, that he would give Cas what he wanted. And he’d known he would have to watch as the man he has always loved, who has always been by his side, and who has never let him down slowly fell to pieces in front of him. But to watch such an intimate moment being stolen from his brother, tainted by the horrific situation they've been force in to… Sam can’t help the tears that stream down his face as he weeps for his brother’s loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed it! And there's a reason this chapter is called Part 1. ^_^
> 
> I really do love hearing from you guys, so please leave a kudo and a comment! It gives me strength knowing people out there are enjoying the story!

**Author's Note:**

> Well... what did you guys think?
> 
> As always, please leave me a kudo and a comment to let me know! I love hearing from you guys!


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